


Soft Respite

by AlwaysAmused



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Body Image, Color Blindness, Fluff and Humor, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Intended oneshot that spiraled, Lucretia doesn't take care of herself but she's trying to get better, Lucretia takes a vacation, Lucretia-centric, Mentions of Cam - Freeform, Mentions of Maureen - Freeform, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Parlay, Self-Discovery, Wonderland Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2020-07-24 20:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 49,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20020882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysAmused/pseuds/AlwaysAmused
Summary: Brad pushes his glasses up his nose, looking down at his clipboard. “The B.O.B has been running for about three years now, yes? And we offer four weeks of vacation every year for employees?”“Yes, all employees must use their vacation days or lose them. They don’t stack year-by-year, but an employee may request more time off.”Brad gives her a meaningful look. Lucretia looks back with a neutral expression, refusing to be cowed. When she doesn’t say anything, Brad sighs and lowers his clipboard. “Director Lucretia, do you want to take a year off?”Lucretia’s brain short-circuits.





	1. Chapter 1

Early in the morning, in her little private bathroom on the Moonbase, Lucretia stands in front of the mirror. She absentmindedly chews on her toothbrush as she gazes at herself, twirling some hair around her other hand. She doesn’t usually take the time to fully take herself in; she knows she doesn’t take care of herself, but for the first time in a while, she inspects her own face. She’s growing her hair out, has been since The Day, and she thinks it’s silvering in some places. There are wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, but her nose has the same hawk-like sternness she thinks she admired in… someone in her family, she's almost sure. Her eyes are the same shape, although she can no longer remember which parent she inherited them from. There are deep circles under her eyes she’s learned to hide with a mix of magic and makeup, and she knows she could use more sleep and less caffeine. Then again, her sleep schedule has been fucked since forever, even before she and the rest of the crew left their home planet behind.

She moves on to her teeth and realizes she’s still slowly chewing on her toothbrush. She takes it out of her mouth, spits into the sink, and looks at her teeth in the mirror. They’re still as crooked as they ever were and another of the things that hasn't changed. She thinks it’s comforting, knowing there are still parts of herself that will always remain the same. She wonders if she’ll eventually lose her teeth, but for all she’s bad at taking care of herself, she’s always tried to brush and occasionally floss her teeth; maintaining a pristine outer appearance is a talent of hers. Lucretia looks at the toothbrush in her hand. It’s chewed to death, as many toothbrushes before it. She sighs and throws it away, making a mental note to buy a new one.

Lucretia continues to stare at herself in the mirror, thinking about her interactions with her employees over the past few days. They’ve all hinted since The Day that _maybe_ she should take a vacation. All except Killian, who crossed her arms while standing in front of Lucretia’s desk and bluntly said, “You should take a vacation or something.”

Every time it happens, Lucretia says something vague like “Maybe soon” or “I’ll think about it,” but the truth is she can’t just drop everything and go.

“It’s impractical,” she says aloud, starting to wash her face. “I’m the director of a bureau that used to hunt mega powerful weapons of mass destruction, and that now works like the fantasy Peace Corps. I can’t just leave.”

 _I mean,_ she thinks, _eventually I’m going to have to retire, but I’m not that old. I’m only-_ She frowns and pauses in rubbing soap onto her nose. _One-hundred-thirty-two? Thirty-some? Fifty?_

“Shit,” she mutters aloud and ducks her head down to splash water on her face. “Okay, so maybe I could retire. When do most people retire? In their sixties or something?”

 _Technically, I don’t even need to work,_ the logical part of her brain says. _I have money_.

She frowns. “I can’t retire or take a vacation,” she tells herself firmly. “I’m too busy with- with. Hm.” Lucretia pauses again, trying to think of something that _needs_ to be done. Most of the rebuilding has happened at this point. Neverwinter is fine, Goldcliff is fine. It’s mostly just little towns that need the help, and she doesn’t really need to hold anyone’s hands through that. Not really.

She can’t remember the last time she took a vacation. The Beach Cycle is the first that comes to mind, but there had been other rest years, as it were. Still, she hasn’t ever taken a real vacation on Faerun. There were days she rested for a moment, but since the Bureau of Balance really took off, she hasn’t paused a single moment to rest.

There’s no Hunger. No world-ending problem. No wars or natural disasters. No mission.

“ _Shit_ ,” Lucretia says again, fully realizing her situation. “I can take a week off. Maybe even _two_ weeks. Why not?”

She feels slightly giddy as she finishes at the sink. She dries her face, puts one some moisturizer, and goes back into her room, pulling out her calendar and schedule books, going over everything. There are so many questions that need answering: where is she going to go? How long will she be gone? When is she going to take this vacation? What will she _do_ during this vacation? Who’s going to be in charge while she’s gone?

The last question seems the easiest to answer. She sits at her desk and thinks over her employees. About two-thirds of her employees left after the Bureau of Balance was disestablished, leaving only a handful of her most trusted people behind. A few names come to mind, and then she nods. _Yes,_ she thinks. _He’ll be perfect._

She finishes dressing and walks down to HR before she can lose her resolve. Brad Bradson is sitting behind his desk, pouring over paperwork with a mug of coffee in his hand. He looks up as she walks in and smiles. “Oh, hello Director! What a pleasure to see you, please have a seat. Give me just a moment and I’ll give you my full attention.”

 _Oh yeah,_ she thinks, walking in. _Perfect_. She closes the door behind her and sits down, leaning her staff against the table and folding her hands into her lap. Brad finishes up his paperwork, then gathers the papers together and puts them aside, placing his elbows and clasped hands on the desk, a polite smile on his face.

“Now then, how can I help you, Madam Director?”

This is what Lucretia has always liked about Brad. He always gives everyone his full attention, making them feel important. He’s kind, firm, and dedicated to his work, and his morals never waver.

“Brad, I’ve come to offer you a promotion,” she says.

Brad raises his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side a bit. “Oh?”

She nods. “Concerned employees have come to me, believing I work more than a healthy amount. I’ve finally decided to respond to these concerns. Thus, I’d like to offer you the position of Assistant Director to the Bureau of Benevolence.”

He sits back in his chair, looking at her with a stunned expression. He takes his glasses off to clean them. “Assistant Director?” he echoes, sounding a bit faint.

“Yes. You’ve been with the Bureau for a long time, and as you work in HR, you’ve come in contact with a lot of the Bureau’s employees personally. I’ve seen your capabilities, and I believe you to be the best person for the job,” she says. “As such, you would be my second in command.”

Brad is quiet for a moment, one arm humming himself as he considers his options into the other hand. “Director, may I ask a question?”

“Of course,” she says.

“Are you planning on retiring soon?”

Lucretia smiles and shakes her head. “No, not quite yet,” she says. “I’d like to give the Bureau another decade or so before I start thinking about retirement. But I am getting older, and I think my employees’ concerns are founded. I work a lot, and while I _do_ enjoy the work I do, I could stand to... have some more free time.”

Brad nods slowly. “Have you informed anyone else of this decision?” he asks.

“Not yet. If you decide to accept the position, I’ll move your top choice to head of HR and send out a memo to the rest of the Bureau. We could have a party,” she adds, because now that she’s thought about it, she quite likes the idea. She reins herself in. “Of course, you don’t have to decide right now. I understand this is a lot of responsibility you haven’t asked or applied for. I’ll give you until the end of next month to think it over and give me your final decision.”

Brad nods. “Okay,” he says, still sounding understandably shocked. “Thank you, Director. This is a big opportunity, I'm honored you've approached me. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

“No, that was it. Thank you,” she says and gets up. “Have a lovely day, Brad.”

“You too!” he says, smiling, and she heads back to her office. She has meetings and paperwork and letters to write. She tells herself not to get her hopes up; there’s always the possibility Brad will turn the offer down.

Despite this, she can’t help the spring in her step. She tries to let her mood persist, even though the voice in the back of her head tells her this is a terrible idea. She tells it to shut up and stifles it further with paperwork.

Brad takes her up on her offer before the week is out. She throws a party to announce his promotion, and she sees a look of relief in Killian, Carey, Leon, and Avi’s faces. They don’t look very surprised, meaning Brad must have told them already. She wonders vaguely how many other people knew and were concerned about her, but is pulled away from her musings when Avi pushes a plate of cake and a glass of wine into her hands, telling her to loosen up a bit and enjoy the party.

She smiles and thanks him. As she drinks her wine, she closes her eyes and prays to any god who will listen that this doesn't go horribly sideways.


	2. Chapter 2

With Brad as Assistant Director, Lucretia learns she doesn’t know how to delegate very well. Brad, on the other hand, knows how to delegate very well, and knows what people should be doing which things. They start picking through her work together to figure out which jobs she ought to stop doing, and when he sees the amount of work she does, his expression makes her think it’s maybe a little more than other people do.

“I’m going to hire a secretary,” he says mildly when she finishes explaining. “And then I’m going to take this pile of paperwork and give it to the accounting department. No, wait, reverse that. I’m going to take that down to accounting now and then start looking for a secretary.”

“Okay,” Lucretia says and once again starts to reconsider her plans of vacationing.

_I don’t really need to take one,_ she thinks, sitting in her office and looking at the paperwork she managed to hide from Brad. _I’m doing perfectly fine_. She rubs her eyes and sighs, saying out loud, “Maybe this whole thing was a terrible idea after all. I should… I can’t _demote_ Brad, he hasn’t done anything. But maybe I can convince him not to hire a secretary.”

Instead of getting up to try and go convince him, she puts her head in her arms on her desk. _Yeah, I don’t need a secretary,_ she thinks. _I’m managing fine on my own_.

She falls asleep at her desk by accident and rethinks her rethinking. Before the week is out, there’s a halfling named Charlie Dandibreek who does her scheduling for her. This is relieving and terrifying in equal parts; her schedule has always been in her own hands. She meets with them for the first time with anxiety bubbling in her stomach, but they just offer her a smile and make polite conversation for a minute before diving in.

“So, Director, first things first. How many hours a week would you like to be working?” they ask.

Lucretia opens her mouth and then pauses, doing some mental calculations to figure out how many hours she’s been approximately working a week for the past decade.

“Well,” she tells them. “I’ve _been_ working anywhere between one hundred and twenty to one hundred and thirty hours every week.”

Charlie pauses and looks up at her over their glasses with a concerned expression. “Madam Director, how-” They stop and pull out a calculator, brow furrowed. “That’s a little under eighteen hours a _day_.”

“I’m aware,” Lucretia says, refusing to allow her embarrassment to break her eye contact with them. Okay, so maybe she has a bit of a problem. Admitting it is the first step, right?

“I’m… going to put you down for ten hours a day, six on weekends, bringing you to a total of sixty-two hours a week. Okay?”

“Very well,” she says and wonders what she’s going to do with this new free time. From then on, each morning, she goes into her office to find a schedule made for both her daily and weekly schedule. She lets some of her anxiety go.

She _tries_ to let some of her anxiety go. Her anxiety comes back when, after the first day of this new schedule, Killian comes into her office and stops. “What are you still doing here?” she says, sounding incredulous.

Lucretia sits up. “Well, as it’s my office, I’m working.”

“Yeah, but don’t you have like this new schedule thing where you’re only working for ten hours a day instead of, like, a billion?” Killian asks. “You know you don’t have to work for ten consecutive hours, right? You can take breaks and stuff.”

Lucretia looks up at her, not allowing her exasperation to leak through. “Killian, can I help you with something?”

“Yup,” Killian says, hands on her hips. “Come on, we’re having lunch.”

Lucretia checks the time. “It’s four in the afternoon.”

“Have you had lunch yet?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Then we’re having lunch!” Without waiting, Killian picks Lucretia up, tosses her over her shoulder, and starts carrying her towards the cafeteria.

“You know, I could fire you,” Lucretia says mildly, summoning her staff to her hand before the office door closes behind them.

“Will you?”

“That’s beside the point.”

Killian laughs and puts Lucretia down, but continues to walk with her. There aren’t a lot of people in the dining hall, and those who are aren’t accustomed to seeing Lucretia there. They stare until Killian stares them down. It’s an uncomfortable experience but Lucretia _does_ realize how hungry she is. Killian has already eaten, but she grabs a bag of chips and the two of them talk for a while. Killian suggests a graphic novel she’s never read before. In return, Lucretia promises to loan Killian a book about crocheting she stole from the Legato Conservatory’s library.

“Painting is my first love,” Lucretia says, long-since finished with lunch but thoroughly engrossed in the conversation. “But crocheting is nice for keeping hands busy. Now, some prefer knitting, and that’s fun too, but Magnus and Merle kept stealing my needles, and it’s easier to let someone borrow a crochet hook in the middle of a project than knitting needles.”

Killian laughs. “Yeah, I get that. My mom used to knit and every time she’d want to start a new project, she’d either have to find a pair she wasn’t using already or go buy or make another set. But she used to make some really cool things.”

They slowly make their way back to Lucretia’s office, and Killian thanks her for the book, promising to bring the graphic novel in the next day.

When Lucretia goes into her office the next morning, she finds Killian’s novel and her daily schedule on her desk. As she looks the schedule over, she notices that Charlie has scheduled two hours for a lunch break in the middle of the day from one to three o’clock. Brad, Killian, and themself then try to discreetly check on her to make sure she’s taking it. Charlie also stop by at the end of the day to let her know they’re going home for the evening, and Lucretia takes the hint to stop working soon.

After Charlie leaves for the day, she starts finishing up, then goes to her rooms behind her office, makes some tea, and reads Killian’s novel. She then writes a review for it, lays in bed, and stares at the ceiling until she falls asleep.

She falls into an awkward half-routine; it’s not yet fully figured out. Wake up, breakfast, office, lunch and maybe conversation with various Bureau members. More work, Charlie goes home, she finishes up, and then has the evening to herself.

She quickly finds out she doesn’t know what to do with all her free time. Charlie recommends looking at the fanmail people keep sending to her and she frowns.

“Fanmail?” Lucretia raises her eyebrows, more bemused than anything. Before, at home, she got a little bit of fanmail. She wrote a lot, published a _lot_ , and so occasionally people would send letters to her publisher and she generally replied.

She hasn’t considered that she would get fanmail. It makes sense; she is technically a savior of the multiverse. Now that she _is_ considering the possibility of fanmail, she can’t imagine how much there might be. It’s been _months_ since That Day.

Charlie raise their eyebrows. “Yeah. From what I understand, there’s quite a lot of it. I can have some of it delivered to you, if you so wish.”

Lucretia nods slowly. “Yes, thank you,” she says. “I would appreciate that.”

After that, she spends time in the evenings after work looking through fanmail. She writes replies and finds packages tucked in the large bags Charlie has brought up to her room. She puts the packages aside to inspect later, shaking some of them next to her ear. Some of them, she discovers, have gifts inside; pieces of handmade jewelry from children, badly sewn cloth dolls. Sometimes there’s old food that’s definitely gone bad. She makes sure to write thank yous for everything, except the cursed boxes she sometimes gets. Those go to Leon for proper disposal.

The letter-mail is easier to deal with. She reads peoples kind words of thanks. Part of her feels like she doesn’t deserve to be thanked. The other part of her, the part that spent a century running away from doom and into hell time after time again, the part of her that’s still twenty years old and angry, it feels… good. To be acknowledged. To be thanked.

She starts thinking this hobby of reading and replying to fanmail isn’t the healthiest when she starts lingering on the letters filled with hatred. Those letters, they tell her of dead family members they forgot because of her and her family’s actions. She reads those over and over again, and sometimes after particularly rough letters, she considers calling Magnus. She usually dismisses the notion, usually because by the time she thinks to, it’s well past midnight and she doesn’t want to wake him up by accident. She wonders if the others get fanmail as well. She wonders how they deal with it. By the end of the night, when she’s done dealing with fanmail, she’s exhausted but unable to sleep, and instead takes to lying in bed for hours before falling asleep.

She notices after a few weeks, that Charlie has quietly docked her down to nine hours of work on weekdays and five hours on weekends. She also notices that less fanmail is delivered to her rooms on a nightly basis. She’s nowhere near through it all, she thinks, but she sees Charlie’s concerned and knowing looks and knows they’re the one behind it all. And probably also Brad, and Killian, and Carey, and Avi, and Leon, and okay maybe more people that she originally thought.

Carey starts coming in sometime in the evening with a strong-smelling, lightly sweetened tea that makes Lucretia feel like she’s going to fall asleep in five minutes. After a few nights of this, she asks Carey to bring her a box of the tea. Carey smiles and the next day, she brings Lucretia a tin of loose tea with instructions written on the side.

Her routine becomes more regular. Autumn turns into winter, and one night, she’s lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. Candlenights is approaching and she still hasn’t decided what she’s actually going to _do_. No one has invited her anywhere yet, although she hopes Magnus or Merle will invite her over. She already has gifts, because if there’s one thing Lucretia’s always been good at, it’s gift-giving.

With a sigh, Lucretia sits up, looking at the clock. It’s only seven in the evening; she’s been done with work for a couple of hours, and a part of her wants to call someone, talk to someone. She thinks about calling Merle, but then dismisses the notion. _He’s probably busy,_ she thinks, and instead decides to go for a walk planetside. There’s snow on the ground; she changes into jeans and a thick sweater, and when she reaches into the back of her closet, her hands find a very large IPRE hoodie sweatshirt. They are, she’s sure, the only casual clothes she owns.

She stares at the sweatshirt for a moment. It’s very worn, the logo faded and ends of the hood’s drawstrings frizzed. If she could still see colors, she’d be able to tell it was still the same deep IPRE crimson. She’s sure this one used to belong to Barry or Magnus, but well, neither of them has asked for it back yet, so she’s pretty sure it belongs to her now. Starblaster logic. She pulls it on over her sweater, wraps a scarf around her neck, puts a hat on her head, and pulls the hood up. She grabs a journal and a pen, putting them in the large pocket in the hoodie’s front, then turns to her staff. She hesitates before deciding to leave her staff behind.

_There’s no need to protect it anymore,_ she thinks. _It isn’t a Relic anymore._ She puts her staff in the closet, grabs a crystal out of her desk so she at least has some magical focus, and heads out of her rooms. Charlie’s gone home for the evening, and she’s glad, taking a deep breath before walking to the Bureau’s transportation hanger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a lovely reception this has gotten! The actual vacation part isn't gonna start for a little while, but next up, we've got some good good Hurley/Sloane!
> 
> Thank you to those who took the time to read! I really appreciate it! Let me know what you think below!


	3. Chapter 3

Lucretia’s walk to the hanger is quiet. There aren’t any people milling about on the quad; it’s too cold, although she sees a few fresh tracks on the snow. Those who live on the base must be at dinner. She’s grateful, not in the mood to be looked at or stopped. It’s a nice change compared to when she normally leaves her office.

Avi isn’t in the hanger when she gets there, and a little sign on his desk says he’ll be back in half an hour. It’s no matter; Lucretia knows how to work the cannons herself. She signs out one of the canons on the logbook, signing her name and writing in the time, and pretends not to see the flask. She’s tempted to write him a note about drinking on the job, but instead leaves it be. She’ll write him up later, maybe. She walks over to one of the cannons, moves it into launch position, and punches in the coordinates for Goldcliff.

Before The Day, Lucretia rarely left the moonbase. There was no reason to, she had seekers and reclaimers, so unless she found another possible lead on Lup’s whereabouts, she stayed where she was most needed. She does, however, know how to fly the transport orb. Avi, she knows, calls them transp- _orb_ -tation thingies, and Lucretia still secretly call orbs “shooty shooty round and move-y.” Having a professionally responsible front while being Director is exhausting, because she's not allowed to laugh when Robbie refers to them as “the moon’s balls.”

Being a responsible, professional adult really sucks sometimes. She's the only person other than Lucas now who knows Maureen officially wrote down on the blueprint that they're called _Round Boi Floaty McOrbs_ , so at least she's got that going for her.

The orb touches down gently in the middle of Goldcliff Gardens. She climbs out, shuts the door, and waits for the orb to start floating back up to the base before moving, shoving her hands into her hoodie pocket for warmth. She hasn’t spent a lot of time in Goldcliff for pleasure; most of the time, she’s here trying to secure funding or speak at some event. She hasn’t been back since they officially finished rebuilding.

The city is admittedly beautiful. Skyscrapers touch the sky in the business part of town, while other smaller stores and restaurants line the shopping district. Lucretia has done a lot to raise money and help poorer families here, fixing up the slums, the schools, offering support. Battlewagon racing is legal and as a result, much safer to participate in. Crime rates have gone down. Now, with Candlenights approaching in less than a month, trees and shrubbery are covered with lights and decorations, candles burning in the windows of houses Lucretia pass.

The streetcars are still in operation for the evening, but Lucretia has no pass for them, and prefers to walk than spend the money on it. She takes to wandering the unfamiliar city, admiring the sights. When her stomach alerts her it needs food, she finds a cozy café, and orders some soup and tea. The people behind the counter recognize her, she knows; her hoodie isn’t exactly subtle, but they do their best to not make it _so_ obvious they’ve figured it out. She takes a table in a back corner, lowering her hood, unraveling her scarf, and pulls out her journal, starting to doodle and write.

 _I haven’t painted seriously in a very long time,_ she writes next to a doodle of the person sitting in the opposite corner from her. _Not since Wonderland. I suppose I could try picking it back up again. Black and white paintings can be beautiful, and I suppose with the limited color range, it could be quite gorgeous. Still, there’s a lot of time commitment to painting, especially since I haven’t painted in greyscale since learning how to paint._ Lucretia pauses there and thinks. She isn’t quite sure where she stashed her paint box, but she’s sure she still has it somewhere. _I suppose I could also try imprimatura and glaze colors over, like the old master artists on Legato. I didn’t like the style, but maybe it would be worth trying again. I’d need to double check the paints for the glazes, but it might be interesting. I miss being able to see colors, but… I suppose that was the point, huh?_

She pauses when her food comes, but before she can say thank you, her server, a young half-elf, pulls a notebook out of her back pocket and mumbles something about an autograph.

Lucretia is taken aback for a moment then smiles, taking the notebook. “What’s your name?”

“Anya.” She blushes, shoulders hunching. “I’m… an aspiring writer.”

“Aspiring?” Lucretia tilts her head. “Do you write?”

“Yes, but it’s not- It’s not very good, I write some poetry and short stories.”

Lucretia smiles. “Well, that’s what a writer is. There’s a journal someone got me hooked to, the _Birchflicker Literary_? It’s quite good, I recommend submitting.”

“Oh, oh no, I couldn’t _possibly_!” Anya shakes her head. “I’m not- I’m not _good_.”

Lucretia hums. “Still. I wouldn’t call you _aspiring_ any case. You’re a writer, it’s alright to own that.” She wrote _Birchflicker Literary_ so Anya wouldn’t forget, then added, _Anya— I look forward to seeing your work one day_. Lucretia signs her name and hands the notebook back.

Anya clutches at it, bouncing on her toes. “Is there any advice you can give me?”

“Advice?” Lucretia thought. No one has ever asked her for writing advice before. Well, maybe Barry on Cycle 48, but that was a long time ago. “Well, keeping a journal is always nice. It’s a good way to get things out, and sometimes when I look back at my own musings, I can expand. Start submitting pieces to journals, and don’t be discouraged too much by rejections. Less than half I wrote was published on- on my world.” She stumbles a little over her words, then swallows. “Most importantly, do it because you like it. It’s okay if you never want to get published but try not to let your anxiety stop you if you _do_ want to.” She thinks a little more. “That’s all I can think of right now, although there’s probably much more.” She smiles up at Anya. “Good luck.”

Anya nodded, making some sort of incoherent noise that almost sounded like “thank you,” then scurries off back towards the kitchen. Lucretia watches her go, then eats her dinner, a warm feeling in her that has nothing to do with the soup and tea. The soup is wonderful though, and she eats with one hand and writes with the other, noting the name of the café and what she ordered, the taste of the food and maybe what Taako would do to improve it. When she finishes, she puts her hat and scarf back on, pulls her hood up, and heads out as quietly as she can, a new destination in mind.

The middle of the city isn’t hard to find. The Goldcliff Trust still stands strong before the town square, and in front of it, there’s a cherry tree blooming despite the snow on the ground. The tree looks out of place in the town square, although Sloane and Hurley have done their best to make it fit in. There are ribbons tied to the branches, and little lights hang down, like most of the other trees around. Lucretia sits on a bench across from it and pulls out her journal again, flipping to a new page to draw the city square. People pass by, friends and lovers laugh and talk, and Lucretia takes a pause to watch a tiefling child run up to the great cherry and place a toy down in front of it.

He runs off again and she smiles, continuing her drawing. It’s shaping up to be a good picture and she thinks about making another, bigger copy to gift Hurley and Sloane with. She doesn’t know them very well, but she figures they might appreciate the gesture.

After some more time—she loses track fairly quickly—she sees the two dryads come into the clearing, Hurley laughing at something. They spot Lucretia and walk over, looking curious. Lucretia’s used to people looking over her shoulder as she draws and appreciates that they’re not trying to be discreet.

“Hello,” she says as they get close, and Hurley’s face lights up.

“Oh hey! Didn’t see it was you. What’re you doing here, Director?” she says as Sloane drapes herself on the bench next to Lucretia.

“Not much. Wanted to get out.”

“Oh wow,” Sloane says, leaning over to see the drawing. “That’s awesome. Show Hurles, that’s really cool.”

Lucretia shows Hurley her drawing.

“Dang, that’s pretty great,” Hurley says, climbing up onto the bench on Lucretia’s other side. “The story wasn’t kidding, huh? How’re you doing lately?”

“Thanks,” Lucretia says, the familiar fluttery response for positive feedback settling in her stomach. “I’m doing alright. You two?”

“You know, same old, same old. Racing has never been better, and Sloane isn’t robbing houses anymore,” Hurley says.

“Hurley’s still working for the militia and racing, I more run the money management part of our team now,” Sloane says, waving a hand and sticking her (tongue? Do dryads have tongues? Lucretia isn’t sure) out at her girlfriend. “It’s been pretty great, although people keep leaving weird ‘offerings’ by the tree. We’re not really sure what to do with them. It irritates Hurley.”

“It does not irritate me, it’s just super weird,” Hurley says, rolling her eyes. “It’s like they think we’re gods or something. I know dryads aren’t exactly common, but I’m pretty sure we’re not gods.”

“Well, I know a kid left something by the tree a little while ago,” Lucretia says and Hurley groans, getting off the bench to go see while Sloane laughs.

“Like I said. Irritated,” Sloane tells Lucretia, still grinning. “I’ll say though, she likes the appreciation, but she’s a little overwhelmed by it. I am too, if I’m being honest. I’m not used to being this ‘seen,’ you know? Criminal background and all.”

Lucretia nods slowly. “Yeah, I get that,” she says. “Not the criminal part but… Everywhere I go, people eventually figure out who I am. Not that I leave the base very often.”

“True,” Sloane says, leaning back on the bench, spreading out a bit more and letting her head loll back. “And it’s not really my place I guess, since I don’t know you that well, but maybe you should get out more?”

“I get out,” Lucretia defends, closing her journal and resisting the temptation to hug it to her chest, instead placing it carefully in her lap and folding her hands over it. “I’m getting out right now. Look, I’m not on the base right now.”

“I did say _more_ ,” Sloane says, rolling her lolled-back head to look at her better, smirking. “You’re kind of an unknown? People know who Taako is, he’s the most public of all you. People see Magnus, and last I heard, Merle’s got a badly made bar on a beach. And sure, they’re still famous, but none of them live on the moon. They don’t know a lot about Davenport either, but like, I ain’t talking to him, I’m talking to you, yeah? Anyway.” She rolls her head back to the sky and closes her eyes. “No one’s really seen you around. They see you at big events and stuff, but you’re not, like, decidedly a person. Disconnected, that’s the word.”

“I just don’t want people invading my personal life in a regular basis,” Lucretia says. “I’m… private, not disconnected. That’s all. Taako loves being famous, but I’m just…” Lucretia waves a hand, trying to articulate.

“Not that good at it?” Sloane says with a laugh.

Lucretia huffs and looks away, but grins. “Well, yes. I don’t like being in the spotlight when I don’t want to be.”

Sloane laughs out loud. “That’s pretty unfortunately, seeing as there isn’t a person alive who doesn’t know your name. Sorry Director ‘I saved the Universe and then some,’ you’re the most famous person in the world.”

“I know, I know.” Lucretia shakes her head. “But saving the world was a group effort. I didn’t do it single-handedly.”

Sloane makes a noise of disagreement. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean people don’t appreciate it.”

“What don’t people appreciate?” Hurley says, coming back with a ragdoll in her hand. “Also, Sloane, this doll? It’s you. Look, it’s got feathers glued on with glitter-glue. You have an idol now.”

“Aw, rad!” Sloane took the doll and tucks it into her pocket. “I love it.”

“A tiefling boy left it,” Lucretia supplies.

Hurley’s eyebrows (brow ridges?) raise. “Blue tiefling boy? Little horns still growing out?”

“I think?” Lucretia frowns. “I’m- Colors are an issue for me.”

Hurley tilts her head. “Huh, didn’t know that. But yeah, it’s probably him. His name’s Timothy, he’s real cute.”

“He’s leaves stuff fairly consistently.” Sloane shrugs. “He made Hurley a doll the other day, it’s really cute. I think he wants to be a druid.” Sloane turns back to her girlfriend. “Also, babe, we were talking about Lucretia’s inability to conceive her fame.”

“I can- I can _conceive_ it,” Lucretia says indignantly. “I just don’t know how to deal with it!”

“Oh, same,” Hurley says, hopping back up on the bench. “I mean, Sloane and I were popular as battlewagon racers, but people didn’t know who we were before, so the fame was kinda off our shoulders. But it’s a little more obvious now, with the whole dryad thing and all, so now it’s kind of a daily thing.”

“Hey, at least racing isn’t illegal anymore,” Sloane says. “Hurley could’ve been kicked out of the force.”

“Okay, but—and this is an important detail, babe—I _was_ kicked out of the force. They only let me back on when racing was made legal,” Hurley points out. Lucretia’s head swivels back and forth between them like a tennis match.

“Fair,” Sloane allows and turns back to Lucretia. “But anyway. I still think you should get out more, mingle with the population more. Maybe offer to do an interview with the papers? Do you get fanmail?”

“Yes,” Lucretia says with a sigh. “A large part of my evening is dedicated to fanmail. I try to reply to it, but a lot of it is just a general thank you, so I don’t…” She slumps a little and mumbles, “I don’t even know why I’m telling you any of this.”

“Because you don’t get out enough?” Sloane says with a sly look. “Anyway, it’s okay. I mean, you’re running an entire bureau. I imagine that takes a lot of work?”

“Yes! Yes, it does,” Lucretia says, sitting straighter again. “I need a vacation.”

“Then take a vacation, what’s the bureau gonna do, fire you?” Hurley says with a shrug. “I’d say unionize, but you’re the boss so.”

Lucretia lets out a startled laugh at that, lifting a hand to cover her grin. “I mean, they could _try_ ,” she said. “I have an assistant director now who could technically start a coup and take over for the sole purpose of firing me.”

Sloane laughs at that. “Is that _likely_?” she says and laughs harder when Lucretia eyes her with a deadpan look and shrugs.

“Since that’s not gonna happen, what are you waiting for then?” Hurley says. “Take a vacation. You give the rest of your employees vacation days, right?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely.”

“Then give yourself as many weeks as you give them.” Hurley shrugs. “No one can blame you for that. Hell, you deserve it with all the shit you’ve been through.” Sloane nods along.

Lucretia sighs. “I’ve been pulling myself together for a vacation, but I’m… It’s been so long, I’m not exactly sure what to do on vacation.”

“Why would you want to _do_ anything on vacation?” Sloane says at the same moment Hurley says, “ _Nothing_ , that’s what you do.”

Hurley and Sloane fistbump over Lucreita before Hurley continues, “Look, you can do other things other than paperwork. Like, if you really wanna do stuff, why not take up some hobbies, or go back to hobbies you had before? Write a book for fun, do some art, or I dunno. You do you. Have fun. When was the last time you had _fun_?”

“Um.” Lucretia squints. She knows this. It was sometime after Merle got his arm chopped off, and she went with him to the spa. “A year ago.”

“Yeah, that’s too long,” Sloane says. “Take a break, you deserve it.”

“Absolutely, yeah, that’s too long” Hurley pats her arm. “It’s getting late, so I think we’re gonna bounce, but you think about it.”

Sloane offers Lucretia a smile and waves a hand, making a white flower appear in her palm. “Goodnight, Lucretia. Happy Candlenights.”

“Thank you. Goodnight, Happy Candlenights,” Lucretia says, taking the offered flower. The two dryads made their way home, and Lucretia watched after them for a moment, then presses the flower between the pages of her journal. After another moment is sitting, Lucretia sighs and gets up, putting her journal back into her hoodie pocket. She makes her way out of the city and then rolls up her sleeve, shivering against the cold as she presses two fingers to her bracer, calling an orb. The looks out the window on the ride back, watching Goldcliff get smaller and smaller as she hugs her journal to her chest.

 _I think I’ll go back to Goldcliff tomorrow,_ she thinks when she gets out of the orb in the hanger. It’s later than she thought; Avi’s gone for the night. She signs herself back in and heads to bed, turning her conversation with Hurley and Sloane over in her mind.

 _Soon,_ she promises herself as she climbs into bed. _I’ll bring up taking a vacation soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kind comments! Lucretia's gonna start her vacation soon, although she's gonna get QUITE the surprise!


	4. Chapter 4

Two days later, Lucretia buys a studio apartment in Goldcliff overlooking the marketplace, on the twenty-fifth floor of the complex. It isn’t furnished, but that isn’t a problem; she starts moving some of her things from the Starblaster—still in storage in the Miller Laboratory planetside—into the space. She gets a bed first and fills it with blankets and pillows. There’s a kitchen area that she blocks off slightly with a table long enough for seven people, and she pushes a sofa against the back wall.

She doesn’t spend a lot of time in the apartment yet, but she knows people at the Bureau have begun to notice her absences. No one questions her about, but eventually Brad mentions offhand, “You know you still have all your vacation days?”

“Oh?” Lucretia says, looking up from the new contract she's been trying to find loopholes in. She’s already found and corrected four. “How many days is that?”

“I’m so glad you asked!” Brad pushes his glasses up his nose, looking down at his clipboard. “The B.O.B has been running for about three years now, yes? And you offer four weeks of vacation every year for employees.”

“Yes, all employees must use their vacation days or lose them, they don’t stack year-by-year, but an employee can request more time off.”

Brad gives her a meaningful look. Lucretia looks back with a neutral expression, refusing to be cowed. When she doesn’t say anything, Brad sighs and lowers his clipboard. “Director Lucretia, do you want to take a year off?”

Lucretia’s brain short-circuits. “What?”

“Well.” Brad adjusts his glasses a little. “I’ve been talking to Charlie and… _others_ ,” he adds before quickly moving on, “And we all agree you deserve a longer break than we normally give employees.”

Time seems to freeze, slow down, and speed up all at the same time. Lucretia has no idea how to reply to that other than just stare intensely, because she really doesn’t know how else to stare at people.

Brad shifts uncomfortably under her gaze and his clears his throat. “Um. Director? Did- Did you hear-”

“I heard you. I’m trying to figure out how to reply.” She thinks for a few more moments before blinking and saying, “Hey Brad? What the _fuck_?”

He seems taken aback by the question, or perhaps just by her rare use of vulgarity, lifting his clipboard a little as if in defense. “What do you mean?”

“I- A _whole year_?”

Brad nods. “We- I mean, _I_ think it would be good for you.”

Lucretia puts her elbows up her desk and lacing her fingers together, pressing them to her mouth, wondering vaguely who else is in on this. _I was expecting a few weeks, maybe a month at most. A year? Could I go a full year without doing anything?_

“I… _could_ use a vacation,” she says out loud, slowly. _This is what you’ve been working towards, isn’t it?_ says the other part of her brain. _Do it. Say yes._ She takes a deep breath. “Yes,” she says, making sure her voice doesn't catch. “I think I’ll take a vacation. Starting in three weeks, so I can pull everything together.”

“Are you going to take the full year?” Brad asks, looking surprised at her agreement and also a little hopeful.

She thinks about it for a minute, narrowing her eyes at him. “Yes,” she says with a little difficulty. “Yes, I’ll be taking the full year.”

“ _Wonderful_ ,” Brad says, and there’s a relieved smile on his face. “I’ll let Charlie know on my way out. With any luck, they can clear your schedule sooner than three weeks so you can be home for Candlenights.”

Lucretia nods and thanks him, and when the door shuts, she swears she can hear Brad and Charlie talking until Charlie yells, “OH THANK CYRROLLALEE!”

With a groan, Lucretia puts her head on the desk. When the voices die down, she sits up, takes another deep breath, and starts back in on her work. An hour later, Charlie knocks on the door and comes in, a binder in their arms.

“Good afternoon, Director. I’m been going over your schedule,” they say, climbing up on the chair opposite her desk and standing on it. “And thus far I’ve cancelled everything that can be cancelled, rescheduled everything that can be rescheduled, and everything that can’t be, I’ve moved to Brad’s schedule. You’re free to go after this Thursday.”

Lucretia frowns and pulls out her weekly schedule. “I think Brad told you I’ll still be here for another three weeks? I know there’s a meeting on Friday with Lord Artemis Sterling-”

“Yes, I’ve moved that to Brad’s schedule,” they say patiently.

“That… Charlie, as much as I appreciate that, I would like to attend that meeting.”

Charlie purses their lips. “Director, you need to take a break, the sooner the better. I’m sure Lord Sterling will understand; Neverwinter is also in yours and the Bureau’s debt for helping with the rebuilding effort. Besides, it’ll be good for Brad to get acquainted with him.”

Lucretia stares silently for a moment. “Okay, I’ll make a deal with you,” she says at last. “Brad can go, but I also want to be there. That way, I can properly introduce him to Lord Sterling instead of having him rush into anything. I’ll be out of the office after that.”

Charlie narrows their eyes at her. “And you’ll be out of here by Saturday?”

“I’ll- Yes,” she says, trying not to let her weariness into her voice. “I’ll be out of here by Saturday.”

“Excellent.” Charlie gathers the binder of scheduled events. “I’ll talk to you later then.”

“Thank you,” Lucretia says. When the door shuts, she casts Silence, puts her head in her hands, and shrieks in… frustration? Relief? She’s not sure, but she lets out another shriek, takes a deep breath to compose herself, and casts Dispel Magic. Her throat feels sore.

 _Why did I agree to that?_ She wonders, and oh, okay, this is definitely her anxiety about her rash decision-making. _A whole year? Can I really take a whole year off?_ She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a full year off. Years like that during their time on-the-run were so rare, and she certainly hasn’t had a break since, since-

She closes her eyes and takes another deep breath. When she opens her eyes, she pushes those thoughts as far back into her mind as she can and goes back to inspecting the new contract still awaiting her approval.

* * *

Brad does spectacularly at the meeting, not that Lucretia had any doubts. Lucretia introduces him to Sterling and takes the chance to tell Sterling, “I’m taking a sabbatical and will be unavailable for a year. In the meantime, Assistant Director Brad Bradson will be taking care of all my usual duties. He will be conducting most of the business here at the meeting, I’m more here to observe.”

Sterling raises his eyebrows. “Oh? Well, congratulations. I hope your leave is as relaxing as you hope,” he says before turning to Brad and shaking his hand.

The meeting begins, and Lucretia lets Brad take over, forcing herself to remain quiet, taking notes in her journal and trying not to push her pen through the pages. She takes a few deep breaths when no one’s looking at her. _It’s just your anxiety,_ she thinks. _Brad is fine. This is going fine. You’re fine_.

Every so often, people look to her as if expecting her to interject or shoot down Brad’s ideas. She smiles at everyone else, but only makes suggestions of her own when Brad asks for her opinion. When the meeting is over, she makes smalltalk for a little while before Brad notices her discomfort and excuses them.

As they wait for the transportation orb to come, he turns to her. “Thank you,” he says at last. “For letting me speak and do this for you. I know sometimes change can be difficult, but you’ve been working really hard towards self-improvement lately, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed. I’m really proud of you.”

Lucretia blinks at him, taken aback for a moment. “Oh,” she says and straightens her back instead of hunching her shoulders like she wants to. She’s gripping her staff maybe a little too tightly, holding her journal to her chest. “Thank you, Brad. I really appreciate that. The work you’ve done thus far has been excellent.” She swallows and adds, “I couldn’t have asked for a better Assistant Director.”

“Thank you!” Brad says and beams at her. “And it’s okay if you’re nervous about leaving, too. I think anyone would be, and it’s only natural.”

Lucretia looks down at the ground for a moment. _Is it that obvious?_ She thinks. Aloud, she says, “I’m not… worried, per-se. I think today has helped. But your words are appreciated.”

Brad smiles. “You’re welcome.”

They sit in silence for a moment before she adds, “And really, Brad, if at any point you need advice or something, let me know. I want to be there for you, especially since you’re still new to the position. I know this has been a lot of change for you as well, so if you feel overwhelmed…”

Brad gently places his hand over hers, still smiling. “Thank you, Lucretia. That means a lot. And I will, don’t worry.”

She’s not sure if she believes him, but she offers him a little smile, nods, and gases out of the window. When they arrive, Brad offers a hug—she accepts—and wishes her a good vacation. She goes back to her office, and Charlie’s sitting at their desk. When they see her, their eyebrows raise.

“You’re back,” they say, and it’s almost a question.

“I’m just packing some things,” Lucretia says, unlocking her office door with a wave of her hand. “I’ll likely be here tomorrow. My personal quarters _are_ back here, so I might be in and out for a while until I settle in.”

Charlie sighs, but the ghost of a smile forms on their lips, relaxing a little. “Okay, then. How did the meeting go?”

“Exactly as well as I thought it would. Which is to say very well,” she says, walking into her office. “Sterling is likely going to contact us to schedule another meeting. Rebuilding efforts haven’t finished yet, but he mentioned that he wants me to come and speak when they officially declare the efforts done.”

Charlie hums and she heads back into her personal rooms. Most of her things haven’t been moved into her Goldcliff apartment yet, and with a sigh, she summons some boxes and starts packing. Clothes, journals, so on. She tosses her toiletries in at the end and changes her into more comfortable clothing. She pulls the IPRE sweatshirt on and hesitates before pulling on a long, dark-shaded skirt, figuring it can’t clash too badly with the crimson. She closes the boxes and makes them vanish, grabs a few more things to shove into her messenger bag, then grabs her staff and heads back out, locking the doors behind her with a key.

“Okay, Charlie,” she says, stopping in front of their desk again. “If there’s an emergency, _please_ let me know. I have my stone of farspeech and the frequency is on my desk-”

Charlie gives her a Look. “Madam Director,” they say, lacing their fingers together. “With all due respect, chill. We’ve got this. If there’s an emergency, then yes, I promise we’ll be in touch. But otherwise it’s gonna be radio silence. Have a fun and relaxing vacation, and please don’t be back before your scheduled return.”

Lucretia wants to say more. She wants to be certain. She wants to know if this is what anxious parents feel like when they drop their kids off for school. “Okay,” she says, and places the key to her office on her desk. “Thanks. You’re right. Bye, Charlie.”

“Goodbye, Director, have fun,” Charlie says and waves before going back to work.

She walks to the hanger, and Avi smiles at her. “Ready for your vaycay?” he says, walking over to the control panel as she signs out. “Where to?”

“Goldcliff,” she says. “Thanks, Avi. I’ll see you later.”

“You better not,” he says with a laugh. “Okay, you’re good to get in. Have a good time! Bye Mom!”

“Nope,” she says, trying to sound cheerful. “But thank you, Avi.”

Avi laughs harder while she climbs into the orb, and she tries to smile when he salutes her before shooting her off. Only when she’s in her apartment does she loosen her grip on the staff. Then, she takes a deep breath and tries to relax. She’s officially on leave now. She summons her boxes and starts unpacking, putting the few clothes she has into the dresser and wardrobe. Fortunately, she doesn’t have a lot of casual clothes, so it doesn’t take very long. Her journals will take longer to unpack, but first she needs to get a bookshelf. Or twenty bookshelves. She brought a lot of journals and books with her, and left even more in her rooms at the Bureau. She pushes those boxes up against the wall and moves onto her art supplies. She has a vast collection of paints, colored pencils, and pastels, with some pigments unlike any others she'd ever seen.

Not that she can see them anymore. She sorts through them at a loss, unsure of what to keep and what to get rid of, until she gets so frustrated, she puts almost all the supplies back into a box and banishes it back to the Bureau.

 _At least the charcoal and pencils are alright,_ she thinks, more to comfort herself than anything else. _And my brushes in easel are still good. I'll just have to get more paint._

She tries to push the paints out of her mind. As she sets up the easel, she makes a mental list of things she’ll need to get: canvases, notebooks, more journals, maybe some patterned rugs. Bookshelves galore. Eventually she’ll need to get more clothes. _I need to go grocery shopping. Ugh._

Lucretia finishes with the easel and pauses a moment to stretch her back and looks around at what she’s accomplished. To her disappointment, the apartment still looks empty. Rather, it doesn’t quite look like _hers_ yet. Her room on the Starblaster was much, much smaller and filled to the brim with memories. Here she has some necessities. The only really “her” touches are the curtains in the windows, the pillows and blankets on the bed, and the paisley-patterned sofa (she’s pretty sure it’s lime green and pink, but she can’t be sure).

 _I should paint on the walls,_ she thinks as she collapses onto the ugly sofa. _Maybe paint flowers or birds. Something nice_. The sun’s last light filters in through the windows, and she feels a pang and a sudden longing for home, for the sight of two shadows, of two different lights coming through the windows. She tries to swallow the lump forming in her throat. On the Starblaster, whenever she felt homesick, she’d seek out Davenport. Neither of them would talk about home, not usually anyway, but it was nice to share the company of someone who felt the same.

Lucretia doesn’t touch her stone of farspeech to call Davenport. She doesn't touch it at all, although she glances over at it every once in a while to make sure no one from the Bureau is trying to get in contact. It makes no noise. Ignoring the prickling at her eyes, she gets up and continues to unpack.

“This is gonna be a long year,” she mutters to herself, and only wipes once at her eyes before pulling a box of towels and toiletries towards her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's finally there! To the commenters, kudos-ers, and lurkers: thank you!!


	5. Chapter 5

In a locked drawer in her bedroom on the moonbase, Lucretia keeps two journals separated from all the others. The older of the two is a record of everything from Cycle 65. She told her family she was too busy to keep a regular journal during that cycle, one of the now-many lies she's told them. The second journal is barely filled at all. It contains her journey to Wonderland and a detailed record of what she sacrificed, from her age, to her ability to see colors. Any colors. All colors. The world was filled with color once, with her unable to pick a definite favorite, and now it’s nothing but grayscale.

The storyteller in Lucretia says it’s fitting, somehow, that after she left her family her world should become so dull. The logical part of her brain tells her that’s ridiculous; the loss of colors makes quite a few things difficult. For instance, the last time she went grocery shopping by herself—about six years ago now—she accidentally bought oddly round lemons instead of oranges. When she moved onto the base, all she had to do was write down what she wanted and someone else would go get it for her. Thus, she’s been successfully navigating the issue.

Clothes on the other hand are, for lack of a better word, continually frustrating. Lucretia used to love wearing bright colors and has instead exchanged the bright colors for elaborate designs instead. She loves her Bureau robes, and she finds it’s much harder to clash her clothes and look unprofessional when she keeps a simple palette of blues and whites and silvers. She still tried to check in with Davenport when she got new clothes, to make sure they adhered to her palette. Robes are easy. Robes have very few pieces, very little ability to clash. Unfortunately, the clothes she brought with her—some sweaters, a couple of dresses, two skirts, and dark-colored pants—are not nearly as simple.

Lucretia looks down at the long skirt in her hands. It’s mint green with white flowers hand-embroidered by Davenport, a Candlenights gift from one of the later cycles. It used to be her favorite cold-weather article. She worries at her lip for a moment before pulling it on, surprised it still fits, and looks at herself in the mirror. She smooths down the front. She looks nice, she supposes, with a white sweater tucked in. Wearing this skirt seems… wrong, somehow. It’s comfortable enough, it’s warm enough, but there’s something heavy and unpleasant stirring in her stomach. She’s familiar enough with her guilt.

 _Maybe another day,_ she thinks, and takes it off, deciding on some dark pants instead. She looks significantly plainer without her Bureau robes or bright colors. Unremarkable. Less like a savior of the multiverse and more like a middle-aged mother. Given her plans for the day though, that’s alright. She wants to blend in, she doesn’t want anyone to recognize her.

She goes to the kitchen and flips through her copy of Taako’s cookbook, figuring out what meals she wants to make this week and writing down ingredients. She flips to desserts at one point and sees cookies, flips to “chocolate chip” and hesitates. _I know this recipe,_ she thinks, her brow furrowing as she looks over the instructions. _This is the fucking Fantasy Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Cookie recipe_. She snorts out a laugh and rolls her eyes, adding _chocolate chips_ to her shopping list in neat handwriting.

When she finally steps outside, at eight in the morning, she finds it’s snowing lightly. She starts regretting her decision not to take her staff with her when she sees how icy the sidewalks are, but carrying it only alerts people to who she is. She has a wand in her messenger bag, a shopping list in her hand, and no idea where to go first. Fortunately, her apartment building lets out onto Market Street, so she picks a direction and starts walking.

 _This is just like visiting a new plane,_ she tells herself. _Wander around until you find something you can recognize or want to eat._

Unlike the markets in Neverwinter, with the streets lined with stalls and carts as merchants sell their wares, the market street of Goldcliff is lined with shops. Butcher shops for meat, dairy shops with cheese and milk and butter. There are even large greenhouses for fruits and vegetables. Lucretia sort of wishes there were grocery stores, so she doesn’t have to duck in and out of various shops to find what she wants. It’s a long street, and Lucretia wants to stop and look at everything, but there are lots of other people doing their morning shopping—as well as their shopping for the upcoming week of Candlenights—and so she ducks into a greenhouse to get away from the cold and people.

She quickly looses her scarf, checking her list to see if she actually needs anything. _Whatever,_ she thinks when she sees nothing. _I can always eat more fruit_. She approaches a display of pale-looking pears and picks a couple up before an employee asks if she needs any help.

“What kind of pears are these?” Lucretia asks.

“Wintercrisp,” says the employee with a smile, picking one up and slicing it, offering her a sample. “Lightly sweet and very crisp, highly recommended for pies.”

Lucretia buys five. She moves on and finds plumbs, broccoli, snow peas, spinach, and potatoes. She continues on her way, buying milk and butter, chicken and fish, and four bags of chocolate chips as she makes her way up and down the street. On her way home, she spots an art shop squeezed between a high-end clothes store and an ice cream shop.

 _Oh, why not,_ she thinks, eating a handful of chocolate chips before putting the bag away and going inside. It’s small with crowded shelves, the way most good art shops are. She sees a young tiefling woman with amazingly curly hair behind the counter who looks up as Lucretia walks in and smiles.

“Good morning,” she says, sitting up. “I’m Fiona, this is my shop. Can I help you today?”

“Um.” Lucretia shifts her purchases around. “I think so yeah. I’m looking for black and white paints—and greys if you have them—canvases and… I’m sure there was more but now I can’t remember.” She hesitates before saying, “Pens and journals?”

“Of course!” Fiona leans over the counter to point. “Journals and pens are over that way, and canvases and other paint stuff are over there. And if you’re going for oil paint, there’s turpentine over there, and if you bring it back when you’re done, we can recycle it for you. There’s linseed oil there too.”

“Oh, thanks.” Lucretia starts looking over the paints, lingering over the colors. Her heart tugs uncomfortably. She hasn’t painted since she lost her color vision. She moves on to the black and white at the end of the section.

Fiona wasn’t done talking apparently though, because she called after Lucretia, “Unfortunately, I don’t really have grayscale paints I think, only black and white. I can order some for you though, if that’s something you’d be interested in, though.”

“That’s fine,” Lucretia says, grabbing a shopping basket. “This is fine.” She finds large tubes of black and white paint and gets two of each, then loads the basket up with a large bottle of turpentine, linseed oil, and brush soap. She gets canvases too, and when she goes to ring everything up, Fiona frowns a little.

“Would you like some help carrying everything?” she asks. “I mean, you’re already carrying a lot with your groceries. My nephew is around here somewhere if you want the help. Or…” She looks around, frowning. “He _ought_ to be.” She rolls her eyes, continuing to bag everything.

Lucretia looks down at what she’s already carrying. _Oh, right,_ she thinks. “I don’t live very far from here,” she says. “Can I go drop this stuff off and come back?”

“Of course,” Fiona says, taking a moment to push her dark curly hair back. “I’ll keep everything behind the counter here.”

Lucretia thanks her and then rushes back to her apartment, leaving her groceries on the counter before rushing back, almost losing her way trying to find the little shop again. When she gets back, she has a wonderful realization: now that her arms are free, she can buy more art supplies.

Fiona watches her with an expression of amusement as Lucretia puts charcoal, erasers, more canvas, and a large pad of newsprint paper in a new basket. She ends up in front of the small display of pens and journals, and she grabs one journal—a dark cover with sparkles on the front—and about five different pens. While the new things are being ringed up, Lucretia looks at her purchases and feels herself flush a little. “It’s uh, been a while since I’ve had some free time,” she says by way of explanation. “I plan on doing a lot of art. And writing.”

“I see that,” Fiona says with a smile. She bags everything else up and ties the canvases together with twine. “Are you sure you don’t want help getting all this back?”

Lucretia waves away her concerns. “I can get it,” she says. She carries the bags, then casts Levitate on the canvases. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome! Oh, um, let me get the door for you-” Fiona scrambles around to the other side of the counter and Lucretia waits patiently. Then, she smiles, waves, and heads back to her apartment.

When she gets there, she drops her art supplies down where she’s set up her easel and moves back to the kitchen to put her groceries away properly. She then looks at the art supplies and realizes she has no place to put it.

“I should get a storage cart or something,” she mutters to herself, sorting through everything, propping the canvases against the wall. She checks the time, surprised to find it’s already noon. She… hasn’t actually eaten anything other than some free samples at the various food stores she’s been to and some saltine crackers. She pulls out the makings for a salad from the fridge. _I can put almonds or something in it for protein. That’s healthy, right?_

When she finishes with lunch, Lucretia sits back in her chair and stares at the ceiling. It’s not even one o’clock yet, and she feels like she ought to be doing… something. At the same time, she doesn’t want to do anything, and the two feelings fight it out until she sighs and gets up, grabbing a journal and doing some writing. When she looks up again, two hours have gone by. She give a quiet groan and puts her head in her hands, tapping her foot.

The easel keeps drawing her attention. It’s technically a travel-easel, meant to be collapsed and worn as a backpack, able to contain all necessary supplies. She bought it on Legato, and it has served her well for these many years. She’s never considered getting another one, but she supposes she could get something more permanent.

The idea of anything being permanent is still frightening in a way.

Lucretia eventually approaches her easel, picking up a large pad of newsprint and setting it up, adjusting the easel to hold it properly. She then changes out of her white sweater and into some old band teeshirt— _The EX-Vyrphizz_ , and Lucretia vaguely remembers going to that concert with Lup, maybe on the last couple decades of their journey?—then grabs her charcoal. She plans on doing some figure drawings and does a few quick sketches before settling into something of a warmup drawing.

 _Just something quick,_ she tells herself. _Just something to get myself back into the rhythm_.

She starts drawing two dancing figures, and as she continues, the familiar forms of Barry and Lup start taking shape. She carries on, shadowing, blending, and shaping their faces as they hold each other close and smile at one another.

When she finishes, her clothes and hands are covered in black dust, and the clock tells her it’s somehow long past nine in the evening. Her back hurts, and when she sits up and stands away from her drawing, her heart hurts too. She looks down at her hands, at the package of vine charcoal half-used up. She walks towards the shower then, shucking her clothes and thinking, _I should go back to that store and get some setting spray, so the charcoal doesn’t move around too much_.

She leaves the drawing up on her easel and adds _setting spray_ to her shopping list. As she gets into bed, she hopes Barry and Lup will accept it as a Candlenights gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy two-year anniversary to the Balance arc, everyone! I've been quite busy lately but couldn't resist posting another chapter today in celebration. Thank you for being you! You're amazing! Have an awesome day!!!


	6. Chapter 6

Over the next week, Lucretia ignores the fact that Candlenights is approaching, and instead continues to get furniture for her apartment. She gets bookshelves from Fantasy Ikea, some storage for her growing amount of art supplies, and puts some plush rugs down. She has no idea what colors they are and didn’t check, but she finds she doesn’t much care if they clash. _They’re soft and will be baller to walk on,_ she thought before buying them. Now, though, she finds the apartment still isn’t quite home. Most of her personal belongings are still on the moonbase, in a hidden storage facility. She moved most of their personal belongings off the Starblaster, hoping that it would convince her family to stay on Faerun and fight. _“This planet is our home, is my home,”_ an imaginary version of herself begs them in an envisioned scenario. _“We have to stay. I’m not leaving my home again.”_

The loss of the Starblaster had been a shock to all of them. All the memories, all the things they’d collected over the years, gone in an instant. Or so they'd thought. Lucretia piped up shortly after, telling them of the storage rooms, and let them have free reign of it to find the belongings they wanted to keep. They’d taken a few things, hurriedly before all but running in their different directions, seemingly desperate to get away from her.

 _It only makes sense,_ she tells herself, ignoring the space where Junior's tank used to be in her room. _They’ve all got their lives. And we were together for so long, it’s reasonable to want some space_.

Only after did her family become furious with her for the room.

“Why the hell did you move our shit off in the first place?” Taako snapped before taking his leave, and a part of her wanted to scream after him, _“Is it a good thing I moved your stuff or not? Did you want it back or not?”_

She's too tired to argue though. Sometimes it seems like she’ll never be able to win, like she's always be the bad guy in Taako's eyes. Still, there are some of her own things still in storage, both in that hidden room and her personal quarters on the base, and she finds she wants them back. She calls one of the transportation orbs. When she steps out, Avi gives her an exasperated look.

“I’m just here to pick up some personal things,” she says and he grins, rolling his eyes.

“Alright. Tell that to Charlie though, I’m sure they’ll be _thrilled_.”

Sure enough, when Charlie sees her sneaking past their office to get to her own, they say, “ _Madam_ Director!” pouring every ounce of frustration out into two words.

“I’m not working, I promise,” she calls as she opens her office and goes back into her rooms. She’s tempted to grab some paperwork, but the prospects of disappointed looks from both Brad and Charlie stays her hands. She grabs a few paintings, including the one still hanging behind her office chair. It’s no longer disguised to be a portrait of herself, instead showing herself surrounded by her family, and she smiles a little when she sees it.

She moves on to the storage facility with a little more reluctance. She hasn’t been in there since her family came and rifled through it. She unlocks and opens the door, and for a moment it seems like there are six other people with her. She closes her eyes and can almost pretend she’s on the Starblaster again, hearing the hum of the bond engine, the laughter in the common room, smelling Lup and Taako’s cooking.

The moment passes. Lucretia opens her eyes. She’s alone in a dusty room filled to the brim with shared memories. She takes a deep breath before casting Prestidigitation to get rid of the dust. There are boxes in here, open like they’ve been rifled through. _They likely have,_ she thinks and peers down at a box of blankets. There are eight rooms in the storage space; the entrance leads into a room dedicated to things the crew shared; blankets, some pillows, photo albums, etcetera. She’s not sure what to do with the rest of the shared things that no one seems to want. Perhaps she’ll donate them. She decides to leave that for another time, perhaps when she can talk to her whole family without inciting a shouting match.

Off the main room, there are seven other rooms. There are signs on the doors indicating which room belongs to which person’s individual belongings. Lucretia wonders if she ought to invite her family back up to take another look through everything, but as she glances through Taako’s storage—he left the door unceremoniously open behind him—she sees most everything is already gone. She quickly closes the door and moves on to her own storage.

She pauses at the door, taking everything in. There, on a hook nailed into the back of the room, is her robe. It’s soft and thick under her fingers, specially designed to keep her warm or cool depending on the outside temperature. These were the new uniforms designed by the IPRE, able to handle whatever the planar system threw at them. It’s got a nice weight to it, and she takes it down, pressing her face into the fabric. A deep, central part of herself longs to put it on, to hide underneath the waves of crimson. With a thick swallow, Lucretia puts her robe aside. That part of her life is over now, and she ought not linger for too terribly long, lest the clumsy stitches in that wound come undone. She wonders if coming here was a good idea after all, then pushes the thought away. She looks through the closet to see if there’s anything she wants to take with her. She ends up with a box filled with a couple of shirts she can’t remember the color of, an array of wooden ducks gifted to her by Magnus, a pair of the gaudiest sunglasses that make her laugh out loud when she sees them, some art she’d collected from various planes (statues, prints, small paintings; tiny art is her weakness and remains easy to collect in vast quantities), and several photo albums. She takes a few blankets as well, and other knick-knacks she wants to put on her shelves.

Before she leaves, she looks back to where she’s left her robe. After a moment, she sighs and goes back to it, her resolve breaking. She takes off her winter coat and pulls the robe on, buttoning up the front. Immediately, something inside her seems to fall into place. She stands a little taller. When she slips her hand into the pocket, she’s surprised to find something there. When she pulls it out, she frowns, turning it over in her hands. It’s a simple bracelet, made by skilled fingers, with twelve beads around the edge, and her memory tells her each bead represents a different plane. She remembers wearing it during the IPRE press conference before the Starblaster’s mission, remembers rubbing the beads like a cleric during times of hardship. She wore it near-constantly during the century. She remembers considering it lucky once, although a quick Detect Magic tells her there’s no enchantment on it. She presumes someone from home gave it to her. She doesn’t have any idea who that person could be, and something in her heart twinges. She puts it around her wrist anyway, tightening the cords at either end so it stays, and with another glance around, she picks up her staff and box and heads out, locking the door to the facility behind her.

As she walks towards the hanger, she thinks briefly about taking everything out of storage. She surely has the room for it in her apartment. There’s so much in her storage, she’s not entiarly sure how she kept it all in her small Starblaster bedroom. She’s sure everything _will_ make its way out eventually. She thinks about the two journals still locked in her desk and tries to push those thoughts away. _Eventually,_ she muses. _I can have an eventually now, and not one that seems like an impossibility._

“Hey there! You look good in red,” someone calls, breaking her out of her thoughts. Lucretia looks around, seeing Carey and Killian approaching. From her perh on Killian's shoulder, Carey continues, “That’s _the_ robe, right?”

“Yeah.” Lucretia feels an odd swelling mix of pride and guilt as she remembers the lies told to her employees. “This is it.”

“I didn’t think it would still be so… vibrant. Lup and Barry still wear theirs as Reapers, but I assumed they just manifest it. I didn’t realize it was that bright,” Killian says, crossing her arms.

“Oh yeah,” Lucretia says and walks with them towards the hanger. “For some reason, whenever we materialized back on the bridge, we appeared in our robes. It was kind of nice, actually,” she adds, shifting her box so it rested on her hip more comfortably. “It meant no matter how ruined they got, we could depend on them coming back good as new.”

“Cool. Lemme get that for you.” Killian takes the box from her and Lucretia stops herself from pulling back.

 _I can get it myself,_ a part of her thinks. She swallows. “Thanks,” she says aloud, hoping it doesn’t sound so hollow. “As I was saying, it was fortunate, because during the cycles these things would get _ruined_. Especially Magnus’s.”

“Really?” Carey looks surprised. “Not Merle’s?”

Lucretia smiles a bit. “You’d think so, but more often than not, Merle forgot to wear his. Often grumbled about how he should have gotten a jacket instead. But I always liked the robe.” She looks down at herself, smoothing down the front.

“You look good,” Carey repeats, and Lucretia can hear the smile in her voice.

“Thank you,” Lucretia murmurs. When they get to the hanger, Killian gives her the box back, and Lucretia rushes back to her apartment, avoiding the looks she gets from people as she walks through Goldcliff. _Don’t you people have somewhere to be?_ She thinks grouchily, pulling her hood up and hoping no one sees the IPRE patch on the front. _Oh, wait, it’s almost Candlenights. Of course people are out and about._

She huffs and goes inside, taking a few moments to set her things down. She'll unpack most of the things she brought later. For now, she puts her painting of her and her family up on the back wall, and already she can feel the apartment becoming something more like a home. Satisfied, she changes out of her red robe and into something she hopes is a little less blinding in color. She then heads out to the library, holding a piece of junkmail with her address on it. It's a fair hike to the library, mostly downhill, and something in her says she's going to regret not bringing some sort of canvas bag. Behind the front desk is a firbolg who smiles at her when she approaches, pushing his glasses up his nose in a very Brad-like manner.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” he says. “How can I help you?”

“Hello,” Lucretia says, placing her hands on the edge of the counter. “I’d like to get a library card here, please. I’ve just moved to the area.”

The librarian—his name tag says “Alexander”—perks up a little. “Wonderful! I’ll set you up right away. Hold on a moment.” He pulls out a form and takes out a pen. “Do you have an ID?”

She checks her pockets. “No, sorry. I have an ID from work, but I left it at home.”

“Alright, that’s no problem,” he says, pulling out a different form. “What’s your full name?”

“Lucretia.”

He raises his eyebrow and tilts his head to the side, looking interested. “No last name? Kind of unusual for a human.”

 _Is it?_ She thinks. She panics internally and says, “Starblaster.”

They stare at each other for a moment as Alexander’s eyebrows raise higher and higher.

“It’s hyphenated,” she adds, deadpan.

“Your name is Lucretia Star-Blaster?”

“Yes, that’s right,” she says and lifts her eyebrows a little. “Is there a problem?”

“No, not at all!” he says hastily and writes it down. “Um. How is that spelled?”

She thinks quickly, too quickly, and her mouth opens before she can stop herself. “S-T-A-A-R, hyphen, B-A-L-L-A-S-T-E-R. Pronounced as star blaster.”

“Oh neat, like the story?” he says, and she half prays to any god that will listen that the ground opens beneath her to swallow her whole. She can’t wait for any god to make sure she stops digging this hole for herself.

“Exactly like that, yes.” She kicks herself.

“That’s cool. Okay, what’s your address?” He peers down at the slip of mail she provides, copying it down. “Date of birth?”

Lucretia’s eyes flick down, squinting as she tries to remember. She hasn’t celebrated it in years; the last time she did was when she refused to tell Maureen and Brian what her birthday was and walked into a room on June ninth to a surprise party. She misses the two of them.

Alexander gives her an odd look when she remembers and finally gives it, but doesn’t say anything, and she marvels as he still doesn’t say anything, even when his eyes flick to her staff and he looks her up and down, then looks at the form.

He clears his throat. “Um. I don’t mean to, uh, _pry_ ,” he says, reaching don to get a clean form.

 _Oh gods, here it comes,_ she thinks and braces herself.

“Are… you sure you want to keep the name, um ‘Staar-Ballaster’ on here, Madam Director?” he says, laughing a little as he reads it over. There’s a look in his eyes that tell her he’s not going to make a scene about meeting her, and she lets out a sigh of relief.

“Of course,” Lucretia says, glad she perfected her poker face over the span of her life. She raises one eyebrow. “It’s my last name, after all. A terrible coincidence.”

The librarian snorts. “Lucretia Staar-Ballaster?”

“Yes. I will say, the name absolutely gave me an advantage over other applicants for the mission,” she says, and Alexander loses it, hunching over with quiet giggles as he glances around, making sure no one else has noticed her.

“Sign here,” he says, turning the form to her. She signs it and then he gets up to file it, still grinning and shaking his ead. When he comes back, he hands her a library card. “You have to sign the back, but then you’re good to go! Um…” He takes a piece of scrap paper and shyly pushes it towards her. “Would you mind signing this for me too?”

Lucretia finally lets the corners of her mouth quirk as she signs it for him. “Not at all,” she says, taking one of the library’s pens. She signs her name in neat handwriting, pausing before adding _Staar-Ballaster_ and _Thank you for the help today_. She pushes it back and he grins again, tucking it into his pocket.

“Thank you,” he says, a little shyly. “And… is Staar-Ballaster really your last name?”

“It is now,” Lucretia says, signing her new library card simply as _Lucretia_. “Although now I suppose I have a few calls to make concerning a change of name. I will admit, Madam Director Staar-Ballaster has a certain ring to it.”

Alexander starts laughing again and someone shushes him. He presses a hand over his mouth, but his eyes still shine with the radiance of his smile.

“Thank you,” Lucretia says, putting the pen away. “Where’s the biography section?”

“Back there, past the fiction, in non-fiction.”

“Wonderful.” Lucretia heads into the back and start wandering, first through the nonfiction and biographies, then through the fiction. She ends up carrying a stack so large she can’t see over it and returns to the front desk. “Is there a limit to how many books I can check out?” she asks.

“Not really, but you have to bring everything back in two weeks,” he says, starting to check out the books.

“Then I’ll see you in two weeks,” Lucretia says. When he’s done checking her out, she takes the books and heads out, giving him a small smile and nodding her head in farewell.

The walk back to the apartment brings her mostly uphill, and Lucretia starts to regret the number of books. She Levitates a few of them so she can at least see over them. She wishes she’d brought her staff to help cast, and does indeed wish she brought a canvas bag to carry the books in. She reminds herself to get a pass for the city’s cable cars as a couple pass her, moving easily up the hills. By the time she gets home, she’s sweating and breathing heavily, fumbling for her key to the apartment. She pushes the door open with her foot, puts the books on the floor, trying not to let them fall over. The whole movement feels awkward, and she only barely makes it to the bookshelves she's set up before the books start swaying.

When it comes right down to it, Lucretia doesn’t own a lot of books. Journals, yes. Copies of her own books, sometimes, although she doesn’t have a lot published on this plane. Even before she left her home planet, Lucretia often didn’t buy books. She went to libraries and raced through the books when she wasn’t writing or studying. The only books she keeps with her now are the ones she brought with her from home, or library books she conveniently “forgot” to return before the Hunger came. They’re falling apart, held together with magic and fantasy duct tape. The pages are yellowed, and she’s more than once thought about trying to copy them down somewhere and publish them here on Faerun. She knows any publisher would take them now. Books from foreign planes of existence? They must be worth a fortune.

Lucretia flops down on a sofa and does nothing but stare at the ceiling for a moment, unreasonably exhausted from her excursion. To the room at large she complains, “This isn’t fair. I used to be able to walk for _miles_. Literal miles. Without my legs feeling like jello.”

_Then again, it’s been a long time since I’ve tried to do that. Maybe I should get back into shape. Isn’t that a good thing for older women to do? Stay in shape?_

She sighs and gets up, grabbing a book and flopping back down on the sofa. She knows she’ll change position again before she’s done reading, but for now she lies down with her head against the shoulder rest and opens her book, forgetting for a few hours about the rest of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back! This is my absolute favorite chapter of this fic thus far. Lucretia coming up with the name "Staar-Ballaster" was one of the first scenes I wrote for this fic, and I still love it. Thank you for reading!! Updates will be getting a little slower for a while, as I'm heading back to school at the end of this week. Thank you for your support!


	7. Chapter 7

In the past few months, Lucretia has done more standing at her mirror than she has in years. Literal years. She has her few clothes spread out, and none of them are suitable to her mood. She wants more patterned clothes dammit, and her closet is, as she’s sure Taako and Lup would say, “unbearably bare.” She decides to do more shopping and pulls on the fire few articles of clothing she can grab and a jacket.

 _By the time I get everything I need,_ she thinks as she picks up her staff, _I’m never going to want to step foot into a store ever again._

Lucretia leaves her apartment, first just window shopping and people watching. It’s an unusually warm day for winter, although she supposes the desert is just Like That. The sun is out and some of the snow has melted into a hideous slush that the city is still trying to get rid of. “Hideous” and “Goldcliff” do not belong in the same sentence after all, and with each passing day, Lucretia is realizing how true that is. Where she lives, there’s always someone who looks as if they’re a fashion model on the runway, rather than a businessperson going about their day. It makes Lucretia slightly self-conscious in a way it hasn’t before, perhaps because her mind is directly on clothes today. She supposes she must be more used to colder weather though because while she’s out in just a jacket and scarf, there are people completely bundled up. They still look fashionable, make no mistake, but she barely conceals a snort as someone who looks rather like the Fantasy Michelin Man walks by.

Still, there’s a part of her that wonders why she picked Goldcliff. It’s a beautiful town, but she imagines this place suits Taako more than herself. But then she sees a group of children playing in the snowy slush, pushing each other and scream-laughing at one another. Ah, the sounds of childhood. It’s the weekend, and so there are children and the streets are busier than usual. Lucretia smiles in the children’s direction before hurrying on, glad she brought her staff to help her balance with all the slippery spots. She sees the cable car move past her, unhindered by the snow, and thinks _, I should probably get a pass for that tomorrow_.

She waits at a crosswalk, seeing a baby poke out from behind their mother’s back, a too-big winter hat on their head as they blink up at her. She notices other people are looking at her as well, and warm though the day is, she starts wishing she’d covered up a bit more to avoid the stares. She buttons up her jacket a bit more and hurries along, keeping her head relatively down until she finds a suitable-looking shop.

Unlike Taako and Lup, Lucretia’s never been terribly interested in clothes shopping. She’s had some cute outfits she enjoyed wearing, and occasionally Lup could convince her to wear bright colors—yellow and ultramarine and leaf green and pink—but she’s always enjoyed a limited palette with her clothing. Once upon a time on Tosun, Lucretia made her own clothes. It was overall cheaper, and her clothes fit better.

 _I should start doing that again,_ Lucretia thinks as she goes through racks of clothes, picking out a couple of things and draping them over her arm. _The art store probably has some fabric, or else I could probably find some at Fantasy Costco. Heck, there’s probably a fabric store here in Goldcliff, and if not, there’s surely one in Neverwinter_.

A familiar laugh on the opposite side of the store makes her head snap up and she ducks behind a mannequin before she’s even fully realized what’s happened. When she peeks out, sure enough, there’s Taako standing with a tall dark man Lucretia recognizes as Kravitz. Taako’s pushing clothes into his boyfriend’s hands while Kravitz rolls his eyes, grinning. She can’t hear what they’re saying, but Taako looks… happy.

 _Good. But FUCK_ , she thinks, and hides back again when Taako starts heading over to the section she’s been in, wishing her staff were a little wieldier so she could hide better. She looks around, sees the dressing rooms, and hurries over to the elven woman there. “Excuse me, could I take a dressing room, please?”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, goodness!” she says. “ _Two_ of our saviors in my boutique! Just unbelievable, of course, Director, just step this way-”

Lucretia hurries past her, hoping Taako hasn’t seen nor heard, and all but flings herself into a dressing room, shutting and locking the door behind her. She tries to ignore everything that’s going on outside as she tries on a loose-fitting blouse, remembering how Lup once told her, “You should try wearing some form-fitting stuff sometime. You’ve got a great figure!”

Lucretia thins her lips and pulls on the shorts she grabbed, looking at herself in the mirror as she hears Taako say, “Babe, look, I know your whole thing is dark and death and stuff, but would a little color kill y- Oh! Okay, no, change of plan, I’m gonna get you in _pastel_.”

Someone—Kravitz she assumes—laughs a little awkwardly. “Taako, I’m not- Pastels aren’t really my _thing_.”

“I’m not saying you gotta wear lavender or anything like me, but like I think an orange would go _great_ with your complexion.”

“I thought you said not a lot of people can successfully pull of orange?”

“Yeah, but you’re one of ‘em, hotshot.”

Lucretia feels an icy dread fill her as she hears them move into the dressing room next to her and closes her eyes for a moment as she takes a few deep breaths. _You have every right to be here,_ she thinks. _This isn’t just his store. Boutique? That’s sort of pretentious, isn’t it? Anyway. You’re just here to buy some clothes, not to start a fight._ She swallows and tries on a few of the other things she grabbed, deciding the shorts weren’t for her, especially with how cold the weather had been getting. She ignores the giggling and indiscreet hushes coming from Taako and Kravitz’s dressing room.

“Hey babe, you wait here, I’m gonna grab something,” she hears Taako say, and feels relief as he sprints off.

She unlocks and opens the door to her dressing room and peers out, seeing the elven owner of the store standing at attention. When she sees Lucretia, she smiles.

“Can I help you, Madam Director?” she asks and Lucretia nods, glancing briefly at Kravitz’s dressing room.

“Yes, um.” Lucretia steps out, grabbing her staff. “I’m not taking these,” she says, and hands her the ones she’s decided against. “But if you could tell me what color these are…? I have a color-vision deficiency, so…” Her voice trails off into a mumble.

The woman smiles. “Of course, no worries! This top is orange, and these are a sort of rich purple,” she says, placing a hand on the pants Lucretia picked out. “This top here is a dark red, and _these_ pants are blue. Lovely winter colors, excellent picks, Director. Is there anything you’re looking for specifically?”

“Oh, well, yes,” Lucretia says. Over the shoulder of the woman, she sees Taako look up at the sound of her voice. She nervously clears her throat as she looks away, avoiding his gaze, and she repeats in her head, _I have just as much right to be here. I’m not done shopping, so I’m not leaving_. “Just… um, something casual? I like interesting patterns, since I can’t see much color, but I’m afraid of clashing. Do you have recommendations?”

The woman’s eyes and smile widen. “Yes, of course! Right this way, we have plenty of choices. What do you prefer, dresses? Blouses? Pants?”

The woman continues to question her as she leads Lucretia through the store, and Lucretia follows, still pretending like she hasn’t seen Taako. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Taako until she sees him approaching her. Her insides start to panic, and she can hear her heartbeat in her ears before Taako loops his arm through hers.

“Oh, don’t worry about this,” he says to the elven owner. “She’s with me, yeah? I’ll help her out, thanks.”

Before Lucretia can protest, he pulls her back towards the dressing rooms. “Kravitz?” he calls. “I found Lucretia and she’s having a fashion crisis, I’ll get back you in a min, ‘kay?”

The door opens and Kravitz sticks his head out. “What? Oh! Hello Lucretia,” he says and sticks his hand out. “Um. I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet.”

Before she can take his hand, Taako pushes her into her original stall, saying, “Yeah, yeah, introductions later, baby. You at least know how to dress yourself.”

“I know how to dress myself,” Lucretia says before Taako fixes her with a Look and her words wither up.

He looks her up and down, arms crossed, hips tilted, and frowns at her. “What was it you were looking for? Patterned casual clothes? Bee-R-bee.” He goes back into the boutique, leaving her and Kravitz to stare after him. Kravitz clears his throat and opens the door to his stall a little more, clothes materializing onto him.

“Kravitz,” he says, holding out his hand.

“Lucretia,” she says, taking it and giving it a firm shake. “Sorry to interrupt your day.”

Kravitz smiles a little and shrugs, eyes darting away as he rubs the back of his neck. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve… been wanting to meet you. Officially.”

They lapse into an awkward silence and Lucretia tries to wrack her brain for something to say. He’s a part of the family now, she supposes. She should get to know him. She wonders if she’s also still a part of the family.

She pushes those thoughts away as Taako comes back and shoved an armful of clothes at her. “Here,” he says, all but pushing her into the dressing room. “See if any of those fit.” He shoved another armful of clothes, levitating behind him, at Kravitz. “Fashion show, babes,” he says, taking a seat in one of the plush sofas in the dressing room lobby, waving them away to their respective dressing rooms.

Lucretia, bewildered, shares a glance with Kravitz before he shrugs and goes into his dressing room. Not wanting to be left alone with Taako, she goes into her own dressing room and looks at what he picked out for her.

There’s several casual yet chic dresses with floral and geometric patterns. She has no idea what colors they are, and the labels are no help, but if she knows Taako—and boy does she know Taako—they’re brightly colored. There’s also some paisley blouses and soft button-up shirts, some sweaters with birds, long pants, and a couple pair of shoes. She puts on a button-up shirt with a weird sort of snake-skin pattern and a pair of pants and opens her door only when she hears Kravitz do the same.

“Nice, nice,” Taako says, nodding and raising his eyebrows. Lucretia, who knows this routine, does a small spin while Kravitz remains shifting from foot to foot in a tee shirt and jeans. He looks uncomfortable, and Taako shoos them back in to show off more. It’s an attestment to how well Taako knows her, Lucretia thinks as she mixes and matches the clothes he brought her. There isn’t a single thing he gave her that she doesn’t like.

When Taako’s satisfied with the impromptu fashion show, he gets up out of his chair and stretches loudly, rolling his shoulders and neck, smiling smugly at her. “Happy with the picks? Need more?”

Lucretia takes a moment to gather herself. “No, I think this will be fine for now,” she says.

“Good.” Taako scoops the clothes and shoes out of her arms and makes his way towards check out, motioning for Kravitz to follow. Lucretia blinks, unsure of what’s happening before she trails along behind, helpless as Taako checks out, buying the clothes. The owner, who graciously checks him out herself, looks between the two of them curiously.

“Taako, I can buy my own clothes,” Lucretia manages to say halfway through the transaction. “You don’t have to do this, really.”

“Hey Luce? Shut up,” Taako says, and when all her things have been piles into a bag, he shoves it at her. “Oh, by the way,” he says as she stands there, completely frozen. “Lup and I are having a family shindig on the second night on Candlenights. You should call Lup tonight and RSVP or something like that. Anyway, consider this a Candlenights gift since I didn’t get you one. See ya.”

Lucretia nods dumbly, and Taako flashes her a smile before looping his arm through Kravitz’s, taking his purchases with the other hand. He winks at the elf owner. “See you later, Esme.”

“Bye, Taako,” the owner, Esme, says. To Lucretia, she smiles and says, “Feel free to come back any time, Director Lucretia, we’ll be happy to help you here.”

Lucretia nods and looks around, noticing that Taako and Kravitz are gone, gone as suddenly as appeared. She makes her way into the street and looks around, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of his hat over the crowds, to thank him. But he’s nowhere to seen. She makes her way back to her apartment instead, dumbfounded and somewhat blank. When she gets back, she leans her staff against the wall, takes off her jacket, and unpacks the shopping bag, she finds a package wrapped in tissue paper and a ribbon. Blinking, Lucretia unties the ribbon, and inside is the ugliest sweater she’s ever seen in her life. She doesn’t even need to see the colors to know it’s hideous. There are heart patterns and lower patterns, and it’s the gaudiest thing she’s ever seen, and it probably cost too much to be worth it. She takes the tag off and throws it away, pulling it on and looking at herself in the mirror and she tugs at the hem. The sleeves are too big, falling over her hands, but it’s soft and somehow so very _her_.

Lucretia feels like laughing and bursting into tears at the same time. It’s _exactly_ the sort of thing Taako would get for her. She remains silent instead and takes the sweater off, shoving it into the back of her closet, an ugly feeling in her gut. _You don’t deserve this,_ she thinks, and goes about making lunch.

That night, Lup calls. Lucretia lets it go to voicemail.

“Hey babe, it’s me,” Lup’s voice comes through. “Just checking up, wanted to see how you’re doing. Taako said he told you earlier, but he and I are having a family dinner on the second day of Candlenights, and I wanted to see if you were up to coming. Call me back!” There’s a kiss noise and then she hangs up. Lucretia doesn’t move from her position in front of her latest drawing; it’s a charcoal piece of Taako from the back, his hair a tangled mess, wearing pajama shorts and a muscle shirt as he cooks breakfast in their little Starblaster kitchen.

She sits back on her heels and sighs. Her arms are covered in charcoal up to her elbows, and she’s sure she’s got some on her face. When she checks the time, she finds it’s already close to dinner. She gets up, her knees and hips and neck cracking as she moves for the first time in several hours. She picks up her stone of farspeech and rolls it around between her charcoal-stained fingers as she walks to her kitchen. She has the makings for dinner here, and Taako’s cookbook on the counter. She records a message to send to Lup in lieu of calling her and says, “Hi Lup, just got your message. I’ve actually got some plans but thank you for thinking of me.” She hesitates for a second before adding, “I love you. Bye.” She stops the recording and swallows before sending it and turning her stone off. She places it on the counter next to her and pulls out a pot, setting some water and rice up, then pulling out the makings for a stir-fry.

* * *

“Bull _shit_ she’s got plans,” Taako says when Lucretia’s recording ends. “What’s her plans, stay in and be miserable?”

Lup scowls at him and tries to call back, but they get voicemail again. Lup hangs up and tosses her stone onto the sofa, going back to helping Taako cook. “I’m worried about her,” she announces.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Barry says, following her into the kitchen. “She’s probably working, or still wants to give us some time.”

He makes a meaningful glance at Taako’s back and Lup sighs. “Yeah, I get it,” she says. “But like, we have to talk about this _eventually_. We’re adults. We’re _family_. We should be able to talk about this!” She takes a wooden spoon from Taako and takes over the risotto, dumping in a cup of broth.

“She’s acting weird, too, asking the lady at the boutique for help and stuff. Which, good thing, because her fashion sense is awful,” Taako adds under his breath and gets hip-checked by Lup.

“Her fashion sense is _fine_. She just needs a little push to explore color more.”

“See, that’s what I don’t get,” Kravitz says. “She’s an artist, right? I can only imagine she used color.”

“Yeah,” Barry says, joining him at the table. “She’s a really great artist, why?”

“She was asking for some specific help at the store,” Kravitz continued. “Taako, I wasn’t sure if you heard, but she was asking the owner what color things were. She said she has some sort of color-vision deficiency?”

There’s a silence in the kitchen for a moment as Lup stops mixing the risotto and turns, a hand on her hip. “That’s… That’s not a human aging thing, right?” She looks to Barry.

“Uh, not as far as I know?” He shrugs. “You can lose your eyesight, but I’ve never heard of a person losing _color_ as they get older. Also, she’s not that old, she’s like, in her fifties?”

“Barold, you guys only live to be about, what, eighty years? A century? If your life span isn’t even a century long, fifty years is pretty fuckin’ old,” Taako says, moving on to make a salad.

“Okay, but she’s not _geriatric_ ,” Barry says. “And she’s always been pretty healthy. Pan knows she’s _active_ enough. She’s always needed reading glasses, but there’s never been any problem with her-” He stops there and sucks in some air, eyes widening.

“You okay there, babe?” Lup asks, frowning a little.

Barry nods, pauses and thinks better of it, and swallows. “Wonderland. Do you think…?” he trails off, and silence falls in the kitchen. Taako stiffens, and although Lup can’t see his face, she knows what expression he has. His ears are flat against his head, his shoulders tensed. He’s afraid.

“You think she sacrificed her color vision,” Taako says, his voice a little high but otherwise flat.

Barry nods. He then realizes Taako can’t see him, and mumbles, “Y-Yeah. I do.”

There’s silence again before Taako says, “Fuck. Fuck!” He leaves the room before Lup can place her hand on his shoulder.

She bites her lip and says, “Hey Barry, watch the risotto. Whenever the liquid gets absorbed, add another cupful of broth.” She doesn’t wait for Barry to reply and goes after her brother.

Taako has changed over the years. She’s thought this a few times in the past six months or so since they were reunited. He’s more closed off now, and she’s had to crack through a couple layers of ice to get to him. They’ve talked though; about trust and communication, about how hurt he was when she left. How he felt like she hadn’t trusted him. He’s talked to her about the isolation and loneliness over the century, about Glamour Springs, and she’s held him as he cried. In return, he’s been there for her when she’s talked about her own isolation and loneliness, confided in him about how she sometimes craves the ability to feel nothing. How she’s sometimes too overwhelmed by the world after a decade of silence and nothingness.

She finds him in his bathroom, reorganizing his and Kravitz’s sink. There are hair products on shelves, a _lot_ of hair products, because although Taako’s hair used to simply fall into place without much convincing, it’s thinner and more brittle now, not wavy anymore; it’s straighter than he is and occasionally frizzy. She often hears him complain about how unmanageable it is. She’s convinced him to try and grow it long, so they have more options. It settles close to his shoulders now and is still just as thin. It’s like silk; it won’t keep in hair ties, bobby pins never stay where they’re put, and clips are just as bad. When Lup tries to braid it, the braids come out almost immediately, or have hair frizzing out of them.

She knows Taako hates it.

For all they’ve talked about their various troubles, working through their emotions, she still doesn’t know the full extent of Wonderland. She knows it from Barry’s point of view. She’s talked to Merle about it during a visit she had with him a few months ago. But Taako’s been quiet about it, claiming he didn’t lose anything “too important.”

She knows her brother well enough to know when he’s lying through his extravagance. He’s never been one for fear or nervousness though, instead choosing to be angry. He’s still tense, and he’s not looking at her when she stops in the doorway. He glances at her briefly when she taps on the bathroom door.

“Hey,” she says. She doesn’t ask if he’s okay, because he’s clearly not, and she knows him well enough to know that asking is all he needs in order to blow up. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?” she asks instead.

Taako hurls something into the trash with more force than necessary. “Fucking- _Wonderland_ ,” he snarls, and yup, there’s the fear. He throws something else into the trash and it shatters. He stops and leans his hands on the sink, fingers spread out over the cool marble surface before turning them to fists. His shoulders are raised, and his head is bent. He’s dropped his glamour, Lup can tell in the way his hair hangs. He looks like he wants to punch something.

Lup approaches with caution into the bathroom. “Hey, can I hug you?” she asks and Taako’s head jerks in a “yes” motion. She moves closer and wraps her arms around his middle from behind, pressing her cheek to where his neck and back meet. He’s shaking, anger trying to block out any other emotion he feels, because Taako has never been one to wear his heart on his sleeves, would rather be angry than afraid. She’s not holding him very tightly, allowing him to leave if he wants. She only hugs tighter when he leans back into her touch, when he takes her hands and squeezes them. His breathing is unsteady, and in a raw voice he tells her, “It was _hell_ in there.” His breath hitches and he stops talking, breathing hard though his nose.

“…You wanna talk about it?” she asks quietly.

Taako swallows. “I want to be mad,” he says in a furious tone. “She took- What she did-” He punches the counter, but there’s no real heat to it, and he shakes his head. “And at the same time I don't wanna be mad, I wanna put it all away and- It was just her and Cam!” he yells, and Lup closes her eyes. “And she left him there for who fucking knows how long! I can’t be mad at her for it either, because I woulda done the same damn thing."

He falls silent again. The sink drips, and some floral smell is winding its way up from the trashcan. Then, Taako takes shuddering breath, and just as if nothing has happened, he stands straight and pulls his glamour back on.

“You good?” Lup asks, releasing him and pulling away.

He turns to her, giving his best smile. “Peachy,” he says smoothly, pulling down the hem of his button-down to smooth out any wrinkles, tucking it into his pants again.

 _He’s not,_ she thinks. _But it’s progress_. She stands on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his forehead and offers him her hand. He takes it, giving it a reassuring squeeze, and she wonders when he got so comfortable with lying to her.

“Let’s go down,” she says. “Ya peach.”

Taako’s smile becomes a little less for-show and a little more real. “You read my mind,” he said, and leads the way back to the stairs. Before they go down, he squeezes her hand one more time, lets go, and shouts, “Barry I swear to Fantasy Jesus if you’ve burned that risotto, I’m smothering you with your pillow tonight.”

Angus—gods know when he arrived—laughs somewhere in the kitchen as Barry makes protests. Lup smiles, still standing on the stairs as Taako bounds down with his usual grace of a newborn deer. She summons her stone of farspeech and takes it off speaker, calling Lucretia again as she moseys her way back to the kitchen.

 _“You’ve reached the voicemail of Madam Director Lucretia,”_ it says. _“I am unavailable at the moment, but please leave a message, and I will-“_

Lup hangs up and sighs softly, sticking her stone in her pocket. Right now, her family is fractured. The fractures may have healed some over the past year, but without a doubt, they’re still there, enough to catch and cut on. But right now, she hears Taako loudly exclaiming something and Angus bursting out into laughter again.

 _It’s progress,_ she thinks again, and tucks a lock of hair back behind her ear before heading downstairs to scoop Angus up in a hug and throw him on the sofa. _Progress. Progress_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helllllll yeah, found time to finally finish this chapter and get it up! My fall break is in less than a week, so hopefully I won't be too busy catching up with homework to update at least one more time. Thank you all for the wonderful comments and kudos! Shoutout to the Mystery Kudoser (or the Kudos Mystery Squad, since I'm not sure if there's multiples) who keep going on and kudosing all of my fics. I really appreciate it!! You're all fantastic.


	8. Chapter 8

It’s four in the morning when Lucretia decides she’s going to start painting again. She gets out her black and white paint, pours herself some linseed oil into a small jar, and another small jar of turpentine to help her clean her brushes later. She sets a canvas up and turns on the radio to a channel that reliably plays a weird mix of heavy metal, country, and classical music.

She sits in front of her easel, her wooden palette in her hand, and mixes paint into various shades of grey, trying to think of something to paint. It takes her an hour to mix all the shades of grey she wants. It’s five am and she dips her brush into the linseed oil, mixes it with some of the paint, and then stares at her canvas. Her brush is raised, so close to the canvas, and her ever steady hand slightly shakes before se realizes she’s missing something integral.

Lucretia has _no idea_ what to paint. She pulls her brush back and stares at her blank canvas, her mind utterly devoid of inspiration. What did she used to love painting? She can’t remember, like someone has peeled everything away. She thinks back to Legato, her painting of her home planet’s marketplace. Landscapes. _Yes, that’s right,_ Lucretia thinks. _I like painting landscapes_.

Still, nothing seems to take shape in her mind. With a frustrated huff and a quick check of the time—the morning has moved on to six—Lucretia puts down her brush, picks up her palette knife, and spreads paint on like butter. She mixes her paint with linseed, making it easier to move around the canvas. Shadows and trees start forming, a clearing that Lucretia puts out of her mind. She moves paint around the canvas, not bothering to really paint anything in particular. After a while she gets up and moved away from her palette and easel to see what has taken shape on her canvas. A forest has emerged, with choppy trees and dark shadows, with a twisting winding path inviting the viewer in.

There’s not much that distinguishes one forest from another, not with all Lucretia’s experience, but even so, she knows this is undoubtedly the Felicity Wilds.

With an agitated yell, Lucretia throws her paint knife across the room. It hits the canvas, and she freezes when the whole thing falls over, knocking her palette and little jars of linseed and turpentine over.

Lucretia stands still for a moment, forgetting how to breath.

A cheery announcer on her radio wishes everyone a cheery morning as the clock strikes eight am.

The stench of turpentine fills the room as Lucretia falls back onto her sofa. The canvas has fallen paint-faced onto one of her new rugs. She doesn’t feel anything as she stares at the mess, elbows propped on her knees, her head resting in her hands. There’s surely paint all over her face. Bees seem to be stirring in her stomach, and for a long few moment, she just sits in silence, feeling the ever-growing pit in her stomach.

Eventually, Lucretia stands up and opens a window, cold air blasting her and releasing some of the fumes from the room. She then turns and starts cleaning up the mess, tossing the canvas away, taking some paper towels to clean up the turpentine and linseed. She rights her easel and put away her paints, washing her palette.

A violin solo starts at nine am. _I should eat something,_ she thinks, washing her hands. She’s not particularly hungry though. There’s a small buzzing in the back of her head that sounds not unlike the tune of a Voidfish’s redaction.

 _No wait,_ she thinks, turning the tap off and drying her hands. _That’s my stone of farspeech_. When she turns, she sees it lit up on the countertop. She stares at it for a moment until it stops buzzing and goes to voice.

 _“Hey Lucretia!”_ she hears Magnus say. _“It’s been a hot minute since I’ve called, I just want to see sure how you’re doing! We missed you at dinner the other night, and I know you’re probably busy, but give me a call back when you wake up, alright? Or when you’re out of the shower or whatever, hah, I know you don’t sleep. This is Magnus, by the way! I forgot to say. See you later! Bye! I’m hanging up now! I love you!”_

He waits a moment before hanging up and Lucretia continues to stare at her stone.

“Huh,” she says out loud. She walks past the countertop and goes to get dressed. She eats a handful of almonds and pistachios before bundling up and going to Fantasy Costco. She always seems to be the only person there, but today she has the odd sensation of wanting other people around. She eats free samples. She picks up an abandoned cart at some point and leans against it as she looks at large tubs of chocolate-covered pretzels, gigantic boxes of toilet paper, etcetera. 

Behind her, like smoke, Garfield appears, and her want for other people to be around vanishes.

“WELL, WELL, IT’S NOT _OFTEN_ WE SEE _YOU_ HERE _MADAM DIRECTOR!_ ARE YOU _LOOKING_ FOR ANYTHING IN _PARTICULAR_?”

Lucretia slowly turns around to look at him.

“OH _HEY_ ,” he says, smiling at her widely, tilting his head. “YOU KIND OF LOOK _COMPLETELY_ LIKE _SHIT_!”

“Thanks.” Lucretia looks down at the twenty-four-box of Cheerwine in her hands and puts it in her cart. “I’m finding everything I need.”

Garfield starts moving away, wiggling his—fingers? Are they fingers?—at her. “OKAY BUT LET ME _KNOW_ IF YOU _NEED_ ANYTHING!”

Lucretia makes a noncommittal noise and continues on her way until she reaches an aisle exclusively for fish. There are multiple large tanks filled with different kinds of fish. Goldfish, black mollies, guppies, and other kinds of fish, until she comes to the end of the aisle and sees a shelf of small cups, each with a single fish inside. She picks one of them up and the fish stares at her apathetically. She stares back.

“Hey, Garfield?” she says, and he appears again at her shoulder.

“ _YES_???”

She turns towards him, holding the cup in one hand and pointing at it with the other. “Why?”

“ _AH_!” A wide, delighted grin spreads across Garfield’s face as his eyes grow bright in excitement. “BECAUSE THEY’LL _EAT_ EACH OTHER IF YOU PUT THEM IN THE SAME _TANK_!”

Lucretia raises her eyebrows at that and nods slowly. “Tell me more.”

“WELL, _THESE_ FISH REQUIRE A SPACE OF THEIR _OWN_ AND PLENTY OF PLACES TO _HIDE_! IF TAKEN _CARE_ OF THEY CAN _SURVIVE_ FOR UP TO _FIVE YEARS_! IF YOU _OVERFEED_ THEM THEY _EXPLODE_! ARE YOU LOOKING FOR AN _INTELLIGENT_ FISH? AN _ANGRY FISH_ THAT WILL FIGHT ITS _OWN REFLECTION_? THIS _MAY_ BE THE FISH FOR YOU!”

Lucretia looks at the fish again. It’s staring at the ceiling and looks exquisitely unhappy. _I have a tank,_ she thought to herself. The tank in question was Junior’s tank and was rather large. She nods slowly. “My tank is… fifty gallons? At least.”

“YOU _COULD_ ALWAYS PUT IN _OPAQUE SEPARATORS_ AND GET _MORE_ THAN _ONE_! BUT IF THEY _SEE_ EACH OTHER THEY’LL _FIGHT_! THEY ALSO NEED A _MINIMUM_ OF FIVE _AND A HALF_ GALLONS TO _THEMSELVES_!”

“Cool. Thanks.”

“ _DON’T_ MENTION IT!” Garfield vanishes back into the Costco ether and Lucretia puts five cups of fish into the baby seat of her cart. He then continues moving around the aisle, finding tank decorations and filling her cart.

 _I need to get my tank from the moon,_ she thinks as she pushes her cart towards checkout. She knows if she goes back to the base, Charlie might carry her back here and force her to give them her bracer so she can’t call down an orb.

With a sigh, she picks up her stone of farspeech from where it’s hanging around her neck—one missed call from Merle, no new messages—and calls Killian.

She picks up on the fourth ring. “Hey Boss, what’s up? Vacation going well?”

“Hello Killian. It is, yes,” Lucretia says. “I was wondering though; would you mind bringing me something? Normally I’d go get it myself, but I don’t think Charlie will let me into my office.”

Killian laughs. “Yeah, that tracks. What do you need?”

“There’s a fishtank in my room,” Lucretia explains, trying not to feel awkward about it. “It’s rather large, but there’s a wand of Reduce and Enlarge in a drawer beside it. I was wondering if you could bring it to me?”

“A fishtank? What, in your bedroom, or your office? Cuz, like, I’m gonna need your passcode if it’s in your room.”

“Bedroom.” Lucretia finishes checking out and carefully carries everything out of the Costco, hoping the little cups don’t get too knocked around as she goes. “The code is nine-million two-hundred-seventy-four-thousand eight-hundred-thirty-six.”

There’s a pause on the other end before Killian says, “Hold that for a sec, I’m gonna get some paper.” There’s shuffling for a moment before Killian calls, muffled, “Hey babe, can you grab me some paper and a pen? I said PAPER and a PEN _PLEASE_? You’re the best!” A few seconds later, Killian says, “Okay can you give that to me slower?”

Lucretia nods, forgetting Killian can't see her over the stone. “Nine two seven four. Eight three six. Nine-million two-hundred-seventy-four-thousand eight-hundred-thirty-six.”

“Gotcha. Thanks. When do you want us to bring it over?”

“Oh, whenever,” Lucretia says. “Just call me before you want to come over, it’s not… urgent. I'm in Goldcliff.”

“Cool, we’ll be there in like half an hour.” Muffled again, Killian shouts, “Hey Carey! We got permission to break into the Director’s room and steal a fishtank for her!”

“Fuck yeah!” Lucretia hears Carey in the distance.

Killian speaks again, “So yeah, if you wanna meet us outside the city we’ll bring it to your place.”

Lucretia thanks them both and hangs up, glad she thought to put this one on a cord around her neck. She hurries back to her apartment, placing the cups down on her counter and closing her still-open window before grabbing her staff. She walks as quickly as she can, hoofing it to the city gates just in time to see a cannonball heading in her direction. She shivers a little, waiting for Carey and Killian to emerge, and smiles a little when Carey springs out, does a rolling land on the ground and stands up again. She waves to Lucretia and jogs over, leaving Killian to struggle alone with the fishtank.

“Hey, Director!” Carey says as she gets close, slowing to a halt. “Thanks for letting me break into your room, that was fun, I snooped around a little, hope you don’t mind. That’s uh, one big fishtank you got there.”

“Thanks, it used to hold a memory-consuming space jellyfish from another planet,” Lucretia says, glad she brought her staff so she can lean on it. “And no, I don’t mind too much.” She heads over to where Killian’s still trying to handle the tank and casts Levitate on it.

Killian smiles at her and salutes. “Thank for that.” She hops down from the orb, and when she shuts the door, the orb slowly starts to rise back up towards the base.

“It should be me thanking you,” Lucretia says. “It’s good to see you both. How have… things been? At the Bureau?”

Carey and Killian shoot each other a look and Killian rolls her eyes before passing a couple of gold over, Carey cackling as she stuffs the coins into her pocket. Lucretia raises her eyebrows at the exchange and Killian explains, “We were, uh, betting with Avi about how long it would be before you asked about bureau stuff.”

“And _I_ said it would definitely be the first thing you asked,” Carey says, pocketing her gold. “Avi owes me too, he said you’d only bring it up once we got back to your place.”

“Ah, I see. And you?” Lucretia asks Killian, leading the way back to her apartment, employees and fishtank in tow.

“Um. I said you’d avoid the topic for as long as possible.”

Carey laughs and Killian throws her hands up in exasperation. “What? It’s only been like a week since we last saw her! And she didn’t ask to bring her any paperwork, so-”

“Would you have brought me paperwork?” Lucretia more wonders aloud than asks.

“No!” both women say. “You’re on vacation,” Carey adds.

“A well-deserved vacation,” Killian continues. “No Bureau work allowed, this is about taking time for yourself to figure things out.”

Lucretia tilts her head, frowning. “What sort of things?” she asks, looking around and trying to figure out the best way back to her apartment. She remembers there’s still paint on her rugs from her early-morning fit and wonders if she can cast Prestidigitation without them noticing.

“Oh, you know,” Carey says, and climbs up to sit on her wife’s shoulders. “How to not be on some hundred-year-long quest to save the multiverse? How to focus on yourself and not worry about how the rest of the world is doing for once? To not put the weight of the entire apocalypse on your shoulders? Little things like that.”

Her tone is joking, but Lucretia can’t help but tense up a little. She decides to take them on the shorter route to her apartment. “To be fair,” she says, leading the way, “That’s a lot to unlearn. That’s been my life for over a century.”

“We know!” Killian jogs to keep up with Lucretia as Carey mutters, “How the fuck does she walk so fast?”

“A good constitution, I can also hear very well,” Lucretia says mildly, taking a moment to let their words sink in. _Maybe they’re right,_ she thinks as they both stumble to apologize. They reach her apartment complex and she opens the door, instructing them up to the elevator. _After all,_ her thought continues as the Killian makes fun of the elevator music, _I’ve been working towards the same goal for ten years. Before that, well, sure our mission was “find the light” and “find a way to stop the Hunger,” but we had time to ourselves too._

The elevator dings and she steps out into the hallway. “I need a personal goal for the year,” she muses aloud to herself, walking towards her apartment.

“Huh?” Killian says.

“Oh, nothing,” Lucretia says. “It’s just… On the Starblaster, every cycle we would each have something we wanted to do for the year. Like, one year I learned how to fence, another I unsuccessfully tried to learn ballet and broke my ankle about a month in. But it was good to have a goal to work towards in case we found the Light early.” She pauses there to open her apartment door before adding, “A way to kill time until the Hunger came, I suppose. Something to get our minds off of the overall mission. In a way I suppose it helped us adhere to our _original_ mission, of trying to learn as much as we could about other planes.”

They move into the apartment and Lucretia hastily casts Prestidigitate on the carpets, the splotch of paint removing itself before Killian and Carey walk in.

“Make yourselves at home,” Lucretia says, and moves to place the fishtank.

“You’ve uh… got quite the interesting color scheme going on here,” Killian says, taking it all in, eyebrows at her hairline.

“Nice sofa,” Carey says, grinning and flopping down on it. Killian moves over to the coffeetable and peers down at Lucretia’s open sketchbook. The latest drawing is of Merle and Davenport, sitting under the shade of a tree, playing chess. Merle looks like the smug bastard he is, grinning as Davenport contemplates his next move, brow furrowed in frustration.

“Thanks, I’m rather partial to it,” Lucretia says.

“Hey, going back to your goals for the year, maybe you should, like, go on an art voyage?” Carey suggests, sitting on the sofa in a way Lucretia could describe as Gay and Wrong. “Go see some famous art here on Faerun? There’s a museum in Neverwinter—there _was_ anyway, I don’t know if it’s still there since the Hunger? Anyway, it has some good stuff. If you wanted to look into peoples’ personal collections too, I’m sure they’d let you. You’re Lucretia-” Carey pauses there and frowns. “Fuck, do you have a last name?”

“Staar-Ballaster,” Lucretia says absently, moving the tank over a few inches as Killian chokes on air. “I still need to update all the paperwork.”

“Wha- Your last name is _what now_?” Killian seems startled, pausing in her attempt to gently nudge Carey over to one side of the sofa so she can sit down. Carey lets out a bark of laughter.

“It’s a recent addition,” Lucretia steps away from the fishtank, hands on her hips. “How does this look here? I might move it over to that wall.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it looks fine- When were you planning on mentioning that your last name is Star-fucking-blaster?” Killian demands as Carey starts laughing harder.

“Oh, you know.” Lucretia shrugs. “Hey, can you two help me fill up the tank?” She pauses and then adds, “Wait, what the fuck, I’m a wizard.” She casts Create Water and makes ten gallons appear in the tank. It’s nowhere near full, and there’s dust floating in it. _Maybe I should have washed this out first,_ she thinks, frowning as Carey continues to laugh behind her, still marveling over her newly obtained last name.

“What’s your middle name, then?” Killian asks. “Do you _have_ a middle name?”

“It’s Lucretia of course,” Lucretia says, banishing the water again and moving to the kitchen to find a rag to dust with. “My first name is obviously Director. Would you like to stay for lunch?”

Carey loses it again and Killian starts to chuckle as well, putting her face in her hands. “Sure,” Killian says, moving towards the kitchen to join Lucretia, since Carey’s still hogging the sofa to herself. “Why don’t we all go out, mine and Carey’s treat.”

Lucretia frowns at them. “No, that’s fine, I can handle it,” she says. What she does not say out loud is, _I’m not wearing a bra, I am in the bare minimum of clothes for the day_.

Carey must be able to read minds and teleport though because she appears at Lucretia’s shoulder, snatching the dust rag out of her hand. “Really, it’s no problem,” she says, moving towards the fishtank. “You get ready to go; Kills and I will take care of the tank. We’ll leave when you’re ready.”

“I- Oh, um. Alright.” Lucretia grabs some clothes and heads to the bathroom, flustered. _Do I really look that bad? It hasn’t been very long since I left, why am I already this unprofessional?_ She sits on the toilet lid and puts her head in her hands, sighing as Carey and Killian quietly argue about how best to take care of the fish tank. Once Lucretia feels like she can breathe again, she brushes and flosses her teeth, fixes her hair, and steps back out to grab her bag and coat.

They end up taking her to a much nicer restaurant than Lucretia would have picked out for herself, and she feels terribly underdressed when they walk in. Carey and Killian are both in sweatpants though, and as they tell the hostess who they all are, Lucretia wonders if she pulled them away from some important quality time with one another. Carey seems to notice Lucretia’s anxiety though, because she loops her arm through Lucretia’s and says, “Come on, they’re gonna give us some crazy celebrity discount or something, get whatever you want.”

Lucretia tries to protest as the hostess brings them back into some private corner of the restaurant, but they don’t let her get too far before they order red wine for the table and appetizers.

“I hate people recognizing me,” Lucretia mutters as their waiter leaves, resisting the urge to sink into her chair. Her seat is very plush though, and she’s having a hard time sitting up.

“Why?” Killian asks, raising an eyebrow as she looks over the menu. “If I were famous, I’d use that shit all the time.”

“That’s ‘cus you don’t have any shame, babe,” Carey says, sipping some wine. “But I get it, y’know? Rogue and all, we don’t like being caught or looked at or anything. But it’s nice to be appreciated every once in a while, y’know?”

“Being _appreciated_ is not the problem,” Lucretia says, pouring herself a generous amount of wine. “Being placed up on a pedestal and congratulated and thanked? There’s a difference, and it’s small but meaningful.”

“That’s wise,” Killian says, looking impressed. “Makes sense. But on the other hand,” she grins. “Free stuff is great.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Lucretia agrees. “Free stuff is the best, but I don’t want it for saving the world. If it’s free for me… Why am I special?” she wonders aloud and Carey snorts.

“Probably the story you projected into everyone’s head as well as your awesome world-saving powers. And trust me, from what I’ve seen of Taako, he’s eating this up.”

“Yeah, you’re not the only one getting this,” Killian says. “There’s seven of you. Have a bread.” She offers Lucretia a basket of fluffy restaurant buns and with a reluctant sigh, Lucretia accepts a bun and some butter.

They don’t let her apologize for interrupting their personal time either. “We were sitting and playing videogames. And we will go back and play videogames later. But you gave us the chance to break into your office and room, get a massive fishtank, make a bet with Avi, and take you to lunch. This is much more bomb than playing videogames.”

“Also,” Carey adds through a mouthful of steak. “Letting us break into your office? Very cash-money of you.”

Lucretia groans and puts her head in her hands. “Please stop letting Magnus teach you these things.”

“Literally though, Avi owes me money now! _Very_ cash-money _.”_

 _“Stop_.”

Killian and Carey laugh, and for the first time in a while, Lucretia allows herself to smile a little. The meal goes without a hitch, and they don’t let Lucretia even look at the bill when it comes. When they go back to Lucretia’s apartment to drop her off, Lucretia says, “Oh, wait! I have something for the both of you.”

She rushes over to one of her still-packed boxes and goes through it before picking up a carefully wrapped present. She goes back to them and holds it out. “Happy Candlenights.”

They both stare at her before Carey smiles, taking the present. “Thanks, Director.”

“Lucretia,” she blurts out her name as Carey pulls back, and they blink at her, taken aback. “Please,” she continues. “Call me Lucretia, I insist. You’ve been working with me for what, two years now? And Killian, you’ve been working for me longer than even that. Thank you, both of you. I really appreciate what you’ve done, both for me and the bureau.”

Killian tears up a little, looking stunned. “Oh,” she says, and her voice sounds a little gravelly. “Um. Thanks. Lucretia.” She nods and Carey, holds her hand.

“We appreciate you too, you know,” Carey says to Lucretia. “You do good work.” She grins and tilts her head a little as she adds, “You just work too hard sometimes.” She hands the gift to Killian and launches herself at Lucretia for a gentle but surprisingly firm hug. She pulls away before Lucretia can fully process that she’s being hugged, and then Killian waves.

“We’ll see you around, Lucretia.”

“Yeah, let us know if you need anything! Happy Candlenights!”

Lucretia lifts a hand in farewell and watches the two of them walk down the hall, arm in arm and giggling as Killian goes to unwrap their gift. Only once they’ve turned the corner, Lucretia shuts the door. She takes a deep breath, then turns back and goes over to the fishtank. To her surprise, the cups of fish are floating in the water. _Acclimating to the tank’s temperature?_ Lucretia wonders. _Surely they’re acclimated by now._ All the decorations have been put in, and she shuffles some things around with a Mage Hand before putting in the tank dividers. She then lets the fish out of their cups. They swim around, investigating their new abodes and Lucretia sits down and watches them, feeling something wash over her. Now that Carey and Killian are gone, the apartment feels too quiet.

She pulls her stone of farspeech out from under the collar of her shirt and turns it over in her fingers, wondering if she ought to call someone. She considers calling Magnus back, but it’s getting late. It’s nearly Candlenights, and surely he has things to prepare.

Her friends are off-limits for now. She swallows and thinks a little more before she smiles a little and turns her stone on. She dials Lucas Miller’s stone frequency.

“Hello?” his voice comes through, confused and a little dazed, like she’s just pulled him away from a project.

“Hello, Lucas,” she says, holding her stone in one hand as the other wraps around her middle, hugging herself. “How are you?”

“Oh, hey Lucretia,” he says, and she can almost hear him push his glasses up his nose. “Um. Fine, I guess? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” she says, watching her fish. She still needs to name them. “I just wanted to catch up. It’s been a while since we’ve talked and… I can call back later if this isn’t a good time,” she adds.

“Um, no, it’s fine,” Lucas says. “I’m doing okay, I guess? How are you?”

“I’m well,” she says. “I’m… The bureau convinced me to take a break.”

“ _What_?” He sounds as stunned as everyone else and Lucretia smiles.

“Brad was pretty persuasive about the whole thing,” she says, twisting the cord on her neck around. “I’m taking the year off.”

“A whole _year_? I can’t believe it.” He pauses before adding, “Um. Where are you now?”

“My apartment in Goldcliff,” she says. “Would… you like the address?”

“Yeah, sure let me just-” She hears a series of scrapes and thuds before he says, “Alright, shoot.”

She gives him the address and heard him mumble it under his breath as he presumably writes it down.

“Do you, would you like, um.” He stumbles over his words. “I mean you said, we haven’t really talked much? Do you want to, maybe we should get together for coffee or something? There’s that cute place Mom-” He breaks off there as if uncertain how to continue.

“Kishwell’s?” Lucretia says gently. “The little coffee place?”

“Y-Yeah. Yeah, let’s meet there. Tomorrow?”

“Whenever you like,” Lucretia says. “Ten o’clock, tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah. Thanks, um, Lucretia.”

Lucretia’s heart twinges a little. “See you soon. Goodnight, Lucas. Happy Candlenights.”

“You too. Thanks. Goodnight.”

He hangs up first and Lucretia turns her stone off again, sighing as she looks to her fish. She’s not quite sure what to do with her year yet, but she thinks she has some sort of path in mind now. She summons her journal from its place next to her bed and writes for a while, penning in the date and time of her meeting with Lucas. She’s excited about it, really. The Millers were close to her, and once, long ago, she thought she and Maureen might have something resembling a relationship.

Nothing mattered more than the mission though. Not even Lucretia’s own wants. Neither of them talked about what their relationship was, not really, but she knows her own faults to a point, and this is one learned long ago: Lucretia falls in love too quickly. With places, with people, with objects. No matter how much she tried to close herself off like Taako, to try and view the planes they went to as dust, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she got very good at presenting a façade of indifference and hoped the rest would follow it.

Fake it ‘till you make it, isn’t that what Lup always says?

There are too many “if onlys” in Lucretia’s life to count. Once, Maureen represented a rare, future “maybe.” The first possibility Lucretia let herself truly linger on. _I’ll pursue this later,_ she told herself, working with Maureen to raise the moonbase and blushing when their yes met. _Once everything is done. Once the world is saved. Then… maybe we can have something._

Lucretia sighs again, pulling herself away from her thoughts. Perhaps she could have had something with Maureen and perhaps not. For now, Maureen is another person on the long, long list of people Lucretia owes.

 _But maybe I can make it up to her,_ Lucretia writes in her journal, her meeting with Lucas circled at the header. _And if not her, they maybe to Lucas._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO JUST STARTED FALL BREAK? I've been having a Day, and so no homework is getting done. I edited this chapter instead. Hope you guys like it! I think it's longer than some of the other chapters, but it was a lot of fun to write! Thank you for the kind comments and support! I really appreciate you all!


	9. Chapter 9

In a little corner of the Kishwell Café, Lucas and Lucretia sit across from one another. Lucretia has a cup of tea and a croissant while Lucas has a cup of black coffee. Lucretia is writing all this down, and for the past five minutes, neither of them has said a word. The last time they met was in the aftermath of the Battle, neither of them really having anywhere to go. They ended up back on the base in Fisher’s empty flooded chamber. They hadn’t spoken then either.

Lucas has a beard now. She noticed it before, but he’s kept it up. It’s well-trimmed. He looks older with it, she thinks. It looks good. He looks well. Both of them are very versed in how to make their outsides hide their messy insides.

“So,” Lucas says, shifting in his chair similarly to a child in a principle’s office. “You said you’re taking a vacation? How’s that going?”

Lucretia tucks her pen back behind her ear. “It’s going well, I think.” She pauses, gently tapping a finger on the table. “I bought some fish yesterday.”

“Oh?” Lucas raises his eyebrows.

Lucretia nods. “Five of them, they’re sharing a tank with dividers. Their names are Stephica, Gustopher, Veronicatherine, Richolas, and Angry Peat, spelled P-E-A-T, like the bog-grass.”

“…Is Angry Peat short for anything?” Lucas asks, eyebrows raised.

“No, I just thought it was appropriate.” Lucretia sips at her tea. “I wrote their names on the tank with fantasy expo markers.”

Lucas cracks a smile and shakes his head. “You know, I’m not that surprised about that. The names, not the markers.”

“What are you up to now?” Lucretia asks. Lucas leans back in his chair, scratching the back of his head.

“I’m thinking about opening up a school. One that combines magic and engineering and science and…” He trails off, waving his hand before resting it on the table, looking a bit embarrassed. “I actually wanted to ask, um, if that would be alright? Or if you thought it would be a good idea. Since I’m very heavily basing it off what I’ve heard about the- Well I don’t want to intrude, but if you could tell me anything about…?”

Lucretia blinks at him, frowning as she takes a sip of her tea. Something clicks into place. She pulls the mug away from her mouth, cupping it un her hands. “You want to base it off of the Institute of Planar Research?”

“Isn’t there an E in there too?”

“The ‘Exploration’ part was added on.” Lucretia waves a hand, setting her mug back on the table. “It was only added after the Starblaster mission was officially approved of. For most of the time I was there, it was simply the IPR, or just ‘The Institute.’” She sips at her tea, thinking. “I would certainly be curious about a school like that. The Institute was one of a kind back home, and also meant for higher education. It was very competitive. Are you going to make this a university, or is it going to be a specialty school for children?”

“I don’t really know yet,” Lucas admits. “I’m thinking about making it for children? Kids who want to be wizards.” He shifts again. “I just know Taako’s probably also going to open a school.”

Lucretia tilts her head. “More schools are always needed,” she says. “Also, Taako’s competitive by nature. I’d ignore him.”

Lucas sat up a little straighter. “You’re right,” he said. “I just… This is something I really want to do.”

“Then do it.” Lucretia took the pen out from behind her ear, flipping her journal open again and making a note about the school. “If you need any help, let me know. I can tell you more about the Institute if you like, although I’d try and see if you can talk to Davenport. I was a student for the most part. I was just about to finish my doctorate,” she adds.

Lucas furrows his brows. “You were working on a doctorate? In what?”

Lucretia tilts her head, tracing the pages of her journal with her finger. “Journalism? Language studies? Something like that.” She smiles a little. “I was supposed to go on this two-month journey, finish my dissertation, and have my defense in the semester after.”

“Oh.” Lucas looks down at his coffee. “Have you ever considered working on it again? Getting a doctorate here on Faerun?”

“Not really, no.” _Although,_ she thinks, _I suppose I could. Wouldn’t that be funny? Getting a doctorate in journalism and just plopping down The Story? I suppose I could revise it, maybe turn it into a legitimate book for people to read. What field would this even be? Creative writing?_

“What are you thinking about?”

Lucretia turns back to Lucas, watching her with a worried look. _He looks just like Maureen,_ she thinks and smiles a little. “Just… considering it. It would be interesting, certainly. I technically have a Masters’ Certification from Legato in painting, which I think functioned as a sort of doctorate. I’m not sure what the translation academically would be, since their definition of certification was, ‘my art was accepted by the voidfish under the mountain,’ which really isn’t a very good system for academic success.”

Lucas laughs. “No, I guess not.”

Lucretia tears off a little more of her croissant. “So, you’re going to mix magic and machinery. Going to build a spaceship?” she asks when there’s a lull.

“No.” Lucas shakes his head, his smile slipping away. “Well, yes, but not in a necromancy way.” He pauses there, clutching his coffee cup and ducking his head a little. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Lucretia thinks about it. They hadn’t spoken very much during their impromptu meeting in the aftermath of the battle. When she found out he had the Philosopher’s Stone, she was furious. Now, she sighs and shakes her head. “Not anymore. And even when I was, I was more worried about you.”

Her voice is kept gentle, but he still cringes back. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Lucretia reaches across the table, placing a hand on his. When he looks up, she hopes a silent forgiveness passes to him. “I’m glad you’re not dead, Lucas,” she says, keeping his gaze.

He flushes and breaks the eye contact. She sees his shoulders relax though, and he doesn’t pull his hand back. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Me too.” He drums his fingers on his mug. “So, um. Candlenights is coming up.”

“It is.” _In less than a week,_ Lucretia thinks. She thinks about the outstanding invitation to dinner with her family and misses Lucas’s question. She blinks and looks up at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, flushing. “I was just, um, wondering if maybe you, if you wanted to come at some point on the first day?”

“Oh.” Lucretia looks back down at her coffee cup. She remembers previous Candlenights spent with Lucas and Maureen. Their last one together was before the moonbase went up. Lucretia pushes those memories aside and nods. “Okay,” she says. “Sure. I’d love to.”

Lucas peers at her with owlish eyes, blinking over the rim of his glasses. “Neat,” he says. “That’s- Thanks.” He finishes his coffee and gets up. “I have to go,” he says. “But! I look forward to seeing you again.”

Lucretia stands as well, and the two hover awkwardly for a moment. _Fuck it,_ Lucretia thinks, and pulls him into a hug. He’s bony like his mother, and stiff unlike her, as if he’s forgotten how to hug people. He squeaks a little too, startled, before melting into it, carefully placing his arms around her, like he’s uncertain of what to do.

When Lucretia pulls away, she’s misty-eyed. Lucas takes his bag and shoulders it, pretending not to see.

“So, uh… See you soon, Lucretia.” He lifts a hand in a little wave before striding out, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The way he ducks his head and hunches his shoulders reminds her of when he was fourteen, and she smiles a bit, picking up a napkin to wipe at her eyes.

Happy tears, for once.

* * *

Taako looks around his dinner table, taking everything in. His family is eating his and Lup’s food, making pleasant conversation. Merle is trying to convince Kravitz of the health benefits of adding dirt to food. Kravitz looks like he’s not sure if Merle is joking or not, especially when Davenport interjects into the conversation with a straight face. Kravitz looks to Taako with desperation, and Taako winks at him, taking a sip of wine.

Barry is leaned against Lup’s shoulder and keeps trying to dip his spoon into her mashed-potatoes-WITH-cream-and-butter. Lup, not looking at Barry, is laughing with Magnus and keeps batting Barry’s hand away whenever he gets close to her potatoes. Magnus has pulled a little piece of wood from somewhere and is in the process of making a very tiny duck, putting the woodchips on his empty plate. Angus looks engaged in Merle and Davenport’s conversation with dirt, but he looks up briefly when he feels Taako’s gaze on him. The little squirt beams at Taako. Taako sticks his tongue out at him and grins when Angus laughs.

Taako’s eyes move to the empty chair between Lup and Magnus and something inside him twinges. He knew Lucretia wouldn’t come, yet he still keeps an ear out, listening for the last knock at the door to signal her arrival. On the Starblaster, Lucretia was always the last one at the table, usually needing to be pulled away from her room. She always got too absorbed in whatever she was doing to hear the calls or knocks at her door. He keeps hoping she’ll arrive just in time for dessert. The longer he puts of dessert, the more unlikely it is she’s about to appear.

With a soft sigh, Taako puts down his glass and Lup looks up, motioning her head towards the kitchen. _Dessert?_ She asks without words.

Taako nods and the two of them stand, clearing plates away. Taako pulls a pie out from where it’s been warming in the oven and places it and a carton of ice cream on the table. “Reasonable slices,” he reminds Magnus, patting his shoulder. “And Barry, there’s lactose-free ice cream If you want it.”

“No thanks,” Barry says, and makes a grab for the decidedly _not_ lactose-free ice cream already on the table. “Oh, come on!” he says as Davenport takes it away with a mage hand. “It’s Candlenights!”

“Yes, it is,” Davenport says, serving himself some ice cream. “And I’m sure you don’t want to spend it in the bathroom.”

Lup pats Barry on the back in sympathy before accepting the ice cream from Davenport. Dessert goes off without a hitch, and after all the food has been eaten, people go to the living room and hang out, exchanging gifts and hugs and laughter. Taako notices he isn’t the only one watching the door. There are awkward pauses in people’s conversations, waiting for a dry remark. There’s no scribbling of a pen.

When everyone leaves for the night, Taako finds himself boneless in an armchair, hat in his lap as he blows hair out of his face. Lup comes in, swinging her hips to her own music. Barry is asleep open-mouthed and drooling on the sofa, glasses askew, and Kravitz has been pulled away to a late-night job for his Queen.

“Hey, Lup.”

“Mm?” Lup looks around, jazz hands-ing at him with a grin. There’s a stick-on present bow on her forehead and a ribbon tied around her neck in an extravagant bow Merle tied.

“Let’s go see Lucretia.”

Lup raises her eyebrows and straightens up, hands on her hips. “You want to see Lucretia?”

“Not really,” he says. “But Angus and Magnus and everyone left their presents for her here for some reason, so we may as well go bother her.”

Lup hums thoughtfully, pressing a finger to her chin. “We have extra pie, too.” She smiles. “Fuck yeah, let’s do it.”

Taako pulls himself off the armchair and puts his hat back on, gathering the presents up with a sweep into one of the hippy fabric grocery bags Kravitz insists on having. It’s tie-dye and everything. He hands it to Lup, who unquestioningly puts it on and summons her scythe.

“Where to?”

“Where do you think?” Taako tucks some hair behind his ear. “She’s probably asleep in her office. Or worse, she’s awake in her office and has no idea what day it is today.”

Lup snorts and rolls her eyes. She cuts a pathway through the air to Lucretia’s office, and they go through.

It’s dark in her office, surprising both of them. Lucretia isn’t anywhere to be seen, and her office is clean, but there’s something… missing.

“Her painting,” Lup says as Taako snoops. “Her painting of us. It’s gone.”

“Huh.” Taako opens drawers and finds discarded pens, pencils with the erasers chewed to death. He finds a handful of gold and pockets it. There’s a thin layer of dust on everything. “Maybe she quit?”

“I think we’d know if she quit. The fucking presses would stop if Lucretia _quit_ ,” Lup says, moving towards Lucretia’s personal quarters. “Maybe she’s just… not working tonight?” She knocks on the door. “Lucretia? Babe, are you in there?”

Taako continues to go through Lucretia’s stuff, and when Lup slices her way into Lucretia’s personal rooms, he goes with her, twirling a fancy-ass pen between his fingers. Lucretia’s rooms look like they haven’t been touched either, with more dust and darkness greeting them.

“Okay, this is weird,” Lup says, and goes to Lucretia’s bookshelf to peer at her journals. “I wonder where she is. You don’t think something… _happened_ to her, right?”

“Nah, she’s fine. Probably sulking.” Taako goes through Lucretia’s bedside table, finding more tossed-aside gold. There’s a locked drawer here too, with a strong magical lock. Taako breaks into it easily without a second thought.

“Taako, what are you doing?” Lup says, turning as she hears the lock.

“Hey, if she didn’t want us to snoop, she should’a thought about it before she left,” he says with a shrug. To his disappointment, there are two journals in this drawer. He frowns and pulls them out. One has a blood splatter across the front and looks like it got dropped in acid. The other looks like it’s been beat to hell.

 _Weird,_ he thinks, and glances behind him to make sure Lup’s occupied before tucking them under his sweater.

“All her clothes are gone,” Lup says. “Okay well, not all her clothes. I assume she has more clothes than this though, because there’s like three sets of robes in here and that’s it.”

“Lame. She must not be living here, then.” Taako turns back to Lup, who flings her arms up in the air.

“Where else could she be?”

“Dunno. Maybe she has a house off-base?” The idea was, for some reason, incredibly funny. “Can you imagine? Lucretia, owning _real estate_?”

Lup snorts. “I don’t think Luce knows how to be a homeowner.”

“Well, she doesn’t know how to rent an apartment!” Taako motions around the room. “She probably built the fucking moon to get out of learning how to rent a house!”

“In her defense, landlords are terrifying. Remember the one we had when we lived in Flightstorm Bay?” She and Taako both shudder.

Lup shakes her head. “Well, she’s not here. And it’s the middle of the night on Candlenights week, so there’s probably no one around here to ask.”

Taako frowns, tapping his chin with one hand, the other arm wrapping around himself. “Hm. I don’t know, there must be someone here who doesn’t like fun.” He tapped his chin two more times before his ears flicked up, and a wicked smile spread across his face. “And I know exactly who. Come on.” He grabs her hand and they run down the halls, across the quad, to a quiet building with a sign that read _Artificer’s Chamber_.

Taako walks in without knocking. “Hello?” he calls, drawing out the last syllable. “Anyone home?”

From the next room comes a startled yelp, silence, and then a horrified voice saying, “Oh Jesus Christ, not you again.”

Taako grins. “Leon! Care to help an old pal out this wonderful Candlenights? I brought you a present!”

Leon rounds the corner in a dressing gown, holding a pipe in one hand and a book in the other. “For the love of everything that is still good in this world, Taako, please leave me _alone_.” He then sees Lup and moans, looking up at the ceiling. “Sweet Rill, there’s two of you now. We’re closed! It’s Candlenights! Can I get one day without nonsense?”

“Nonsense! Why, we weren’t here yesterday!” Taako says, batting his eyelashes and placing a hand to his chest in lock offense. He drops all pretenses. “Hey, where’s Lucretia?”

“What? Lucretia? She’s on vacation. Why, are you going to try and bother her too?” Leon shakes his head and directed his attention to Lup. “I don’t know where Lucretia is. She’s on vacation. Now if you two don’t mind.” He tucks his book under his arm and lifts a hand. “I’ve got the night off.”

A Gust of Wind sends Lup and Taako sprawling out through the door onto the snowy quad.

“And stay out!” Leon yells, and the door to the Artificer’s Chamber slams shut behind him.

Taako sits up, snickering as Lup shakes snow out of her hair. “Lucretia? Taking a vacation?” He laughs. “She doesn’t know how to relax!”

Lup gets up, brushing snow off of her before offering Taako a hand up. They walk across the quad together before Lup pulled her scythe out again. Barry’s still asleep on the sofa, and they both flop down into the armchair and over each other.

“So, Lucretia’s taking a vacation,” Lup says. “I wonder where she went.”

“I dunno.” Taako shrugs, leaning against his sister. “But she’s fine, I’m sure. Who knows? Maybe she’s out living her best life?” He leans his head against his sister and closes his eyes, wondering what Lucretia thinks her best life is.

* * *

Lucretia is standing in a long, long line at the post office, a large bag of gifts in her hands, bored out of her godsdamned mind. She would write in her journal except literally nothing is happening. She knows she ought to have sent these gifts off days ago, but never got around to it, instead continuing to make herself at home in her apartment and worrying about other things. For instance, Angry Peat didn’t eat for the first three days after Lucretia released him into his section of tank. He’s eating now, thank the gods, but the point is, she’s been... not _busy_ but procrastinating.

Gifts need to be sent. Carey and Killian have already received theirs; she gave Lucas his present when she visited for Candlenights just the other day. She has presents for Avi, Brad, and Leon as well. Charlie is new, so she didn’t exactly know if she ought to get them anything, but she snuck back onto the base to approve of a large Candlenights bonus for them.

There are approximately one-thousand people ahead of her in line, and Lucretia is ready to bash her head into the nearest wall. Her stone of farspeech goes off, and for a moment the almost takes the call, anything to get away from the boredom. _But,_ she thinks, _I don’t want to be that one annoying person who has private farspeech conversations in line. She sends it to voice and turns her stone off._

She finally gets to the front of the line and dumps her packages on the counter. Lup’s, Taako’s, Barry’s, and Angus’s are all piled into one package, while Magnus and Davenport share a package, with a note to Magnus that says, _Please give this to our Captain if you see him_. She has no idea where Davenport travels nowadays.

 _The easiest thing,_ she thinks as the half-elf at the counter starts putting shipping labels on, _would be to go to Taako and Lup’s family dinner and drop everything off. But I don’t want to disturb anything. This is fine._

She pays the half-elf and heads home. She’s finally gotten a streetcar pass, but it’s too cold to stand and wait for it to come, so she walks home in the hopes that she’ll warm up a bit. By the time she gets back to her apartment, she is cold, wet, and shivering. She opens the door and ignores the painting of the Felicity Wolds still in a trash bag by her front door. She’s been meaning to take out the trash and keeps forgetting to take it downstairs to the dumpster on her way out. She shuts and locks the door behind her, peeling her snow-soaked clothes off and changing into fleecy pajama pants and her IPRE sweatshirt. She shuffles into the kitchen, sniffing a little, and puts the kettle on for tea.

Before she can get too comfy, there’s a knock at the door, and Lucretia looks up. The knock comes again, and she continues to stare apprehensively at the door. _Really? This late at night?_ She wonders and gets up. She puts the picture and its home-made frame on her bedside and goes to her door. She opens it to see two old human women standing in front of her, smiling.

“Hello, dear,” says one. “We know you moved here a few weeks ago, and we’ve been meaning to come over, but every time we do, you seem to be out!”

The other woman holds out a large platter covered with a kitchen towel. “We just wanted to bring you some of these while they’re still warm.”

Lucretia blinks and slowly takes the platter. “Thanks,” she said.

“We’re Nura and Mazna,” the first lady without indicating which one is which.

It takes Lucretia a second to remember she’s supposed to introduce herself. “Lucretia,” she says, and the other woman smiles.

“Nice to meet you, Lucretia! Do you have anywhere to be tonight?”

“Uh.” _Technically yes, but it’s not like I’m actually going to the Twins’ place at this point_. “No?”

The first woman tuts and starts walking away. “Come,” she says, beckoning with a single finger. “No one should be alone on Candlenights.”

Lucretia looks down at herself, in pajamas and holding a gigantic platter of what she’s pretty sure are cookies. “I’m not, I’m not exactly dressed.”

“Oh, no matter,” says the woman who stayed behind, smiling. Come on, set those down and we’ll go eat. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Lucretia tries to protest, but the older woman—is she older, really? Lucretia doesn’t want to think about age right now—leads her back into her own apartment, takes the kettle off the stove, makes Lucretia set the platter of cookies down, and then leads her out to have dinner.

“I’m Nura, by the way,” Nura says, patting Lucretia’s hand as they walk down the hall a few doors over. “Mazna is quite terrible at introducing us properly. Come on in.”

Lucretia follows them in and is greeted with wonderful aromas and allows herself to be pushed inside a little more easily as her stomach comes awake. She has barely eaten anything all day. In fact, she can’t remember the last time she had anything other than salad with various protein toppings. Her various attempts at cooking have been less-than-ideal.

She sits at the table as Mazna brings over several dishes, motioning for Lucretia to dig in. “Go on, eat up, you look like you’re about to waste away into nothing,” she says and goes back to the kitchen. Their home is beautiful, and unlike Lucretia’s own apartment, it looks well-loved and lived in. She starts to serve herself, and the food sort of reminds her of… _Was it Tesseralia?_ She thinks, picking up some flat bread and picking up some lamb with it. _Tesseralia had some kickass food_.

Mazna and Nura join her at the table and she immediately feels bad for starting without them, but they wave away her concerns. “No one should be alone on Candlenights,” Mazna repeats. “Don’t you have anyone that’s missing you?”

“Not really,” Lucretia says. “I was invited to a family dinner, but.” She waves the hand not holding another piece of bread. This is the best food she’s had in months. “I’m not a very welcome person at the moment.”

“Hmm.” Nura serves herself and her wife. “If you were invited, I think perhaps you’re more welcome than you think? Goodness, I mean I haven’t seen our downstairs neighbor in years. I never invite him around and so he never comes! That’s a tip for you,” she adds, putting more food on Lucretia’s plate. “If you invite people over, they _will come_. But in return, if people invite you, you should go, at least for dessert, hm?”

“I’ll… think about it.”

“Good,” Mazna says, putting some bread on Nura’s plate. “Family should be with family.”

“Even if they don’t like you?”

Nura laughs. “Then get a new one! We’re humans,” she adds, briefly placing her hand on Lucretia’s arm. “We’ve only got so much time compared to other beings, so make sure the family you pick is one you like, hm?”

She watches until Lucretia nods, then she pulls her arm away and continues eating, flashing a smile at her wife that makes Lucretia’s heart ache in a funny sort of way. Lucretia continues to eat, listening to the wives make conversation. When she really can’t eat another bite, Mazna packs up the leftovers and pushes them into Lucretia’s hands.

“You need food,” she says when Lucretia tries to hand them back. “I can make more if we need it. Do you want recipes? I can give you recipes.”

Lucretia thanks them over and over before they shoo her out of their home, and she makes her way back to her apartment, feeling much warmer than before. The plate of cookies is sitting on her counter, all but calling to her. She takes a couple out, putting her kettle back on as she sits down to record the evening in her journal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!!!!! Thank you to everyone who reads!! Have a safe Halloween, I love and appreciate every one of you!!!


	10. Chapter 10

Taako lets the journals he stole from Lucretia sit on his bedside table for several days. He stacks a few more books on them, hoping that Kravitz won't ask. Or maybe hoping just a little bit that he will. Either way, Kravitz _doesn’t_ ask. It’s past Candlenights now, and by now Taako has received Lucretia’s present; a cookbook from some distant part of Faerun, with handwritten notes in the margins, but with room for more notes should he want add his own wisdom. It’s nice. Thoughtful. There was a card that came with it, signed, _All my love, Lucretia_.

Right now, Kravitz, Lup, and Barry are all out. It’s evening, Taako has already cleaned the dishes, and he has nothing to do. He sits on his bed and picks up the two journals, looking them over. The strangest thing to him is that they aren’t labeled. Lucretia labels every journal she makes, writing down the cycle number on at least the spine so she can properly alphabetize her shit. There’s at least a date on when she started and finished a journal. Lucretia is nothing if not meticulous with her journal keeping. And so, the fact that these two have no labels on them is… out of character, to say the least.

If Taako’s being a little honest with himself, he's a little… not scared, because Taako doesn’t do that. He’s just a little _apprehensive_ about opening these. It’s not the invasion of privacy; he tells himself that if Lucretia didn’t want anyone to look at her stuff, she’d put a better lock on her drawers, never mind that he hasn’t exactly visited her since he moved off the moonbase.

However, he knows that Magnus _has_ visited. According to him, whenever he visits, she finds reasons to leave, saying she has an appointment or a meeting, or Insert Another Excuse Here. Taako’s done a little digging. Apparently, she hasn’t been returning Magnus or Merle’s calls. She rarely picks up the phone at all. Meanwhile, Davenport prefers to write to people when he can, and now that they all have permanent addresses, he most certainly can and does write them all letters. It’s delightful. Taako loves receiving mail. He and Lup stick all of Davenport’s postcards on the fridge.

Taako shakes his head and turns back to the matter at hand. Lucretia. Taako has no idea where she could be. Ever since they tried to visit her on the moonbase, Lup has been worried out of her mind. But Taako’s sure she’s fine! The Bureau knows where she is (probably), and hell, he saw her not that long enough shopping for clothes in Goldcliff. And okay, maybe she looked a little terrified when he walked over, and maybe she looked like the amount of sleep she’d gotten was _none_ , but that wasn’t his problem.

Right?

With a sigh, he puts aside one of the journals, looking over the one that looks like it was dropped in acid. He flips it open to the first page. _Property of Lucretia_ reads the inside in Lucretia’s precise handwriting. Something falls out and Taako fumbles for it before it slips to the ground, face down. Frowning, he picks it up, turns it over, and goes completely still. He recognizes this flier, with its neon colors. He recognizes the bell on the front and the WONDERLAND logo emblazoned in gaudy fonts. He stares at it, his mind going blank as his hands shake. He carefully places the flier face-down on his bedside and reconsidered the journal in his other hand. He sits down on the edge of the bed again and swallows. Logically, he knows it’s probably a bad idea to read this. There’s no cycle number underneath Lucretia’s name, meaning this isn’t a journal from the cycle. He has no idea where it starts, but he’s got a clue as to how this book ends.

Taako flips the page, glancing at the date. It’s a proper date, he’s surprised to find, not just the _Day One_ that Lucretia usually used during the cycles. The date is from over ten years ago now.

Under the date, he finds Lucretia’s handwriting.

 _I’ve done it,_ she wrote. _It’s done, and there’s no going back now. I just dropped Merle and Magnus off; they both seemed happy, if a little confused by their surroundings. Neither of them recognized me, which is a good sign. Taako’s next, then Davenport. Taako has woken up once since the redaction, talking about a man who went over the side of a railing. I reassured him and made sure he went back to sleep. I suppose that explains what happens to Barry. I’m trying to drop them off as quickly as possible, although I suppose if he doesn’t know where the ship is, then he can’t stop me._

_I’m sorry, Barry. I don’t know exactly how you ended up going overboard, but I hope you aren’t too angry with me. And if you are, then I hope one day you’ll understand, this is truly for the best. I love you._

_I love all of you._

Taako’s jaw clenches. The opposite page is from a day later.

_I have no idea what I did, I don’t know, I was so, so careful, Davenport I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, I don’t know why this happened, but he can’t say anything. Davenport can’t SAY anything, and I don’t know why. I was so careful, I’m going through everything again, there’s no way this ought to have happened. This didn’t happen to Taako or Merle or Magnus, why did it happen to him? Would this have happened to Barry too? Gods, Captain, I’m so, so sorry._

Taako flips through the next few pages. Lucretia describes dropping him off at an inn, with his stagecoach waiting, and a shiny new contract for a cooking show. It’s like reading about another person, and yet not, because he _was_ that person, and he vaguely remembers her dropping him off. It's really weird. _He seemed dazed and a little confused,_ she writes. _But I went to his first performance and it was outstanding. It was hard, figuring out where to place him—because truly, what’s good enough for Taako?—but I think he’ll be just fine. He loves having an audience, and you know what? The audience loves him._

He feels a pang as he reads and re-reading the passage over a couple of times. _What’s good enough for Taako?_ He can practically hear the incredulity and fondness in her voice. A part of his whispers to put the journal down, to put it and the other one back in Lucretia’s rooms, or even to just take a breather. Instead, he keeps going.

Lucretia and Davenport got a room at an inn in the woods after it became clear the Starblaster was too hard on him. _He seems much better now that the world around him exists,_ she writes in an entry about three months after she dropped them off. _I wouldn’t go as far to say he’s getting better, but he seems more aware. He knows what I’m saying to him. On the Starblaster, it seemed like he couldn’t focus on anything. Now he seems a little happier, moving around the room and cleaning things, or putting things away. He seems able to take care of himself, but I don’t know that I would trust him with anyone else for a long period of time. I’m going to continue keeping him with me. Just in case. If anything happened to him…_ She trails off and starts a new paragraph. _Things in Raven’s Roost are heating up. There’s a revolution of sorts brewing. Merle, meanwhile, has gotten married, I think to a pearl farmer called Hekuba Roughridge. I don’t know how that happened, but I went and stayed for a bit. He seems happy. She has a young child; I think it will be interesting to see him as a father. He’s certainly more than capable. Taako is also doing well. His show is traveling the Underdark next month, and there’s now merchandise for his show. I bought a shirt._

_No sign of Barry yet. I’m setting out tomorrow to get my staff, for there are rumors around the Pearlbridge Planes of a powerful object still there. I’m going to investigate it, and then I’m setting out towards the Warrige Craig. There are more rumors around there, and I want to see if Lup might have gone there._

There’s a drawing of a wedding on a loose piece of paper. Merle and presumably Hekuba are standing profile to Lucretia, holding hands as an officiant blesses them. It’s strange to look at, and Taako flips past it. Lucretia quickly ends up with her staff and then searches more for the other relics. Things seem to move quickly. Magnus wins his revolution and there are preparations for marriage. Lucretia writes that Taako's own show goes well in the Underdark—although from what he remembers, it was a tough crowd to please—and Merle is still at the beach with Hekuba and his stepdaughter Mavis, and that they're expecting a baby.

 _It seems that I’ve received mail,_ Lucretia writes, a little over a year into the decade. _I don’t know who dropped it off or how, but apparently a place called Wonderland has the Animus Bell. I don’t know anything about this place, and this is clearly a trap. But who could possibly remember the Animus Bell? The flier was taped to my door when I got up this morning. I’m going to Neverwinter to see if anyone knows about this place and whether or not it’s legitimate._

Taako remembers standing in the Madam Director’s office while she told them about her experiences in Wonderland. People told her of the horrors and terrors they faced, but also about the treasure they won and victories they claimed. A chill runs up his spine as he remembers Not-Magnus’s grin and hard eyes. _She was talking to them,_ he realizes. _She spoke directly to them and she didn’t even know_.

Eventually, Lucretia makes her decision. _Another flier for Wonderland came, this time with a map on the back. I have to go investigate. I can’t not investigate this. Whoever sent this knows about the animus bell, and that’s dangerous knowledge to have. I’m leaving Davenport here at the house, and I’ve told him I might be a few days. But I’ve left him for a couple of days before. He’ll be fine. I’ll be back._

The next day, _I’ve found a little town just outside of the Felicity Wilds. There’s a wizard here who knows the area well, Cameron Simmons. He goes by Cam, and I’ve offered to pay him in advance for his help getting me to Wonderland, since everyone else in the town refuses to go too far into the Wilds. Honestly, I would have preferred someone who can fight. ~~I miss Magnus~~._

_I’ve told him his services won’t be required after that. He accepted, and we leave tomorrow morning. I have my staff with me right now, but I wonder if I ought to have left it behind. Either way, it’s with me now, and going back will take too much time._

_The day is bright and clear. I’m taking it as a good omen._

_Our hike through the woods has been rather uneventful thus far, besides the manticore currently prowling the place. Cam tells me there are other dangers deep in the Wilds, but thus far we’ve done a good job of avoiding them._

_We’ve found it, we found Wonderland. It looks, unsurprisingly given the flier, a lot like a big-top circus tent, but there’s only one way to get inside. Our names are above a door, and while I told Cam his services weren’t required once we got here, Wonderland has tempted him as well. I’ve told him it could be dangerous. The Animus Bell awaits me, and for Cam, it says there is a “stone of Golorr” waiting for him. I don’t know what that is, but he seems to want it badly enough to go in with me. Perhaps it will be good to have someone with me. We are resting now and will enter soon._

The next page is a list. There is blood that seeps through the pages, and the ink smears, and acid has eaten away at the edges, but Taako can make it out well enough.

_Played Candyland. Wagered “innate health.” Won._

_Played Monopoly. Wagered middle and last names. Lost._

_Battleship – color vision. Lost._

_Poker – Fluency in Sylvan. Won._

_Go Fish. Refused to wager health, wagered speed instead. Lost._

_Chess – 20 years. Lost._

_Backgammon. Refused to wager the memory of Lup, wagered birth family instead. Lost._

_Twister. Refused to give them the Staff. Wagered the memory of Twosun. Lost._

It’s a tidy list. Concise. Taako mentally tallies up how many rounds Lucretia and Cam must have gone through. The list ends, and when he turns the page, the writing is incomprehensible, smeared with blood and likely sweat and tears.

Taako’s own list is comparatively short. Three things, and the memory of the place. By comparison, Lucretia lost six things and wagered eight, battled through what must have been at least eight rounds total. There’s no notation of Trust/Forsake, no indication of Monster Factory, save for the acid-burned cover. Taako ties to remember what Merle and Magnus lost. Magnus, fortunately, got most things back after getting his body back. Merle truly came out the worse for wear, also with five things, most of them objects.

He flips absently through the book. There isn’t much in it after the list, after Wonderland. He knows she must have kept other journals past this one. Lucretia is firm about not wasting any paper space, and yet even though there’s still a good number of pages in the journal, they’re unused. He puts the journal aside then and stares up at the ceiling, Lucretia’s words swirling around in his head. He knows from Cam how her journey into Wonderland ended, with the Escape Game and her abandoning him there. And what would you know, Taako knows exactly what happened to Cam after that. And looking back on when Magnus gave up his memory of Governor Kalen, he wonders if Lucretia even remembers giving up those memories of Twosun.

He puts the journal back on his bedside and looks at the other one. He doesn’t want to read it, but he picks it up anyway, and flips open the cover. There, on the very first page, is the number _65_. He stares at it for a minute. _As in cycle 65?_ He wonders. _Didn’t she say that there wasn’t a journal for cycle 65?_

Taako snaps the journal shut and tosses it on the bedside table again on top of the Wonderland journal. He’s done enough snooping for one night and closes his eyes with a sigh. What happened, happened, and there wasn’t really any use ruminating over it. (Especially a past that did not belong to him, written in journals Lucretia very clearly did not want him—or anyone for that matter—to read.) He has Lup back. He has a very nice boyfriend who loves him. He hasn’t had to worry about a _real_ apocalypse in a while. He’s starting up a school, cooking, and enjoying time with his family.

Most of his family. Taako rolls over. It would be so easy to paint Lucretia as a villain in all this, one who took everything from him, cold and distant, the head of a shadowy organization. Before he got his memories back, that’s practically what she became, wasn’t it? But now he _does_ have his memories, and he knows her like he knows the back of his hand. She likes soft blankets and unexpectedly likes bright colors. She likes chocolate chip cookies but prefers to eat plain chocolate chips by the handful. In private she puts five spoonfuls of sugar in her tea but out in public she only takes two, so people don’t give her a weird look. He knows her very, very well.

He misses her, maybe. Just a little bit.

It’s clear she’s kind of fucked up. He knows they’re all fucked up, and really, who can blame them? They’ve run away and fought the apocalypse one-hundred times. But throughout all that, Taako knows he has people he can turn to, his family will be there for him, and he never has to doubt that ever again. It’s been difficult, though. Hard, even, to let himself be taken care of. It’s easier to take care of other people.

He wonders when Lucretia forgot how to ask for help. It was clearly sometime before the Relics, but he wonders if it stems even farther back than that. They knew she wasn’t okay when they reformed for cycle 66, but none of them pushed her to talk, not wanting her to pull back into herself. She’d seemed fine, but of course she wasn’t. Who would be _fine_ after one year alone? But they hadn’t pushed, and Taako wonders how much damage that’s caused.

He wonders how they forgot to take care of Lucretia.

Taako groans and yells, “Fuck!” into his pillow before sitting up. “Okay, so maybe Lup and Barry are right for being worried, but that doesn’t mean we should _all_ be worried, right? So, she’s not okay yet, big whoop, none of us are, no thanks to _her_. Besides, this was like a decade ago, I’m sure she’s over it.”

Except he remembers the way she looked before sending them to Wonderland, the way she gripped her staff. “I am terrified of it,” she told them.

One thing since gaining his memories back, Taako isn’t as good at lying to himself. He groans and throws an arm over his eyes before making a Mage Hand to get his stone of farspeech. This isn’t like when Lup went missing. He has more resources on his side this time, some of the best there are in Faerun. He dials the frequency.

“Hello?” Angus McDonald’s voice comes through the other end, sounding sleepy. Taako lifts his arm to glance at the clock. Past midnight.

“Hey, Ango,” Taako says, settling his arm back over his eyes. “I’ve got a job for you.”

* * *

Lucretia’s Candlenights present from Lucas is a folder and a new journal. Inside the folder, Lucretia finds an itinerary for an all-expenses paid trip to a fancy art museum event in Neverwinter. Her eyebrows raise when she skims over the itinerary. There’s reservations at her favorite restaurant in Neverwinter for the duration, a three-night stay at a nice hotel, and a one-way ticket to Neverwinter. That part surprises her. _Why isn’t there a return trip?_ She wonders.

She closes the folder and places it on her bedside, looking over the journal Lucas gave her. It has a light-colored leather cover and several ribbon bookmarks. When she opens it, she finds on the inside of the cover is a map of Faerun, and two Candlenights-themed cards fall out.

She picks up one of them.

_Dear Lucretia,_

_Happy Candlenights. Carey and Killian called me the other day and recommended I send you on this trip for some reason. I hope you have a good time. The museum looks pretty interesting. Please refer to the other card as to why there’s only a one-way ticket since that wasn’t my idea._

_Sincerely,_

_Lucas Miller_

Lucretia snorts and puts the card on her bedside table. She then opens the other card, presumably from Carey and Killian.

_Lucretia,_

_Happy Candlenights! We told Lucas to send you on this trip because we knew you’d never schedule it for yourself! The journal is from us to write down your adventures on. I’m sure you noticed there’s only a one-way ticket to Neverwinter. This is so you can start your adventure! We recommend going to Greenfield next, since they have this adorable museum on paper and bookmaking, as well as workshops._

_Have a great time! We hope you’re not too mad. Bring the journal with you so you can record what you find! It doubles as a sketchbook in case you want to draw anything._

_Our best,_

_Carey & Killian_

Lucretia closes the card, puts it down, and frowns at the journal. She then picks up the card, reads it again, and puts it back down. She looks over to where her fish are and says out loud, “I hate being called out, but they’re right. I never would have started this myself.”

She picks up the folder and looks at the itinerary again. The date for the train is for the day after tomorrow. She groans and puts the folder back down. _What would I even bring on a trip like this?_ She thought. _I haven’t really done much traveling since I hired Seekers and Reclaimers_.

Indeed, the last time she traveled was when she made discreet solo missions to try and discover more about Lup’s locations. Needless to say, there was never any success.

With a soft hum, Lucretia gets up, walking over to her fishtank. _If I went, who would take care of them? I suppose I could ask Carey and Killian, but they’ve already done so much for me. I suppose I could ask Merle, but he lives so far away, and moving the tank would be a pain…_

She straightens and goes to her easel. She still hasn’t bought a stationary one like she wanted to. “I suppose this is better though,” she says. “Seeing as I suppose I’m ‘going on an adventure.’ I guess that’s not so bad.” She starts moving her art supplies around without any real goal in mind, reorganizing her brushes by the softness and size of the bristles. She stops after a few moments and sighs, looking at the brushes in her hand. _Do I really want to go on this trip?_ She thinks, picking up a smaller brush and rolling it around in her hand. _I’ve done enough traveling for several lifetimes over._ Yet the thought of remaining stationary, of remaining permanent, is still… unusual. Even the moonbase moves, and the view out her window is always different. Goldcliff is a busy town, never seeming to sleep with all the hustle and bustle of city life. She tries to remember what she usually did when they ended up in a new cycle. At the beginning of the century, she always followed behind, never wanting to be the first. Later on, though, she loved taking the front, loved exploring and meeting people.

She’s still a biographer at heart, and she still loves hearing other peoples’ stories.

Lucretia finds herself going back to where she put down the folder, paintbrushes still in hand. She opens it again, sitting on the edge of her bed, and pouring over the itinerary again. Everything is itemized. Organized. On schedule. _Very_ official-looking, but without the rushing around.

“I don’t _have_ to go,” she says aloud, standing and pacing, still looking at the folder. _But I also didn’t_ have _to take a vacation. And what the hell is a vacation for if not to do stuff?_

She stops pacing, lifts her eyes to the sky, and groans. _Why is this so hard?_ She vaguely wonders what “this” was. Life? Existence outside of the cycles? Even with the Bureau, her life exists in cycles. Get up, go to work, go to meetings, get more work done, maybe sleep. Rinse. Repeat.

“I don’t have to go,” she mutters again half-heartedly, but knows her mind already made its decision. She tosses the folder back on the bed and half-angrily walks back to her easel, opening the little drawer and filling it with two tubes of black and white paint, jars of paint thinner and linseed oil, and some pencils. She can buy canvases later when she needs them.

Her mind travels to her fish again and she looks over at them, blubbing away. Gustopher stares at her in a seemingly accusatory way and she stares back.

“Oh shit,” she says in realization. “I have neighbors. Neighbors who might be willing to look after my pets while I’m away. What a novel idea.”

She gets up and walked over to Mazna and Nura’s apartment, then hesitates as she lifts her hand to knock. With a deep breath, she knocks and waits.

She hears a commotion behind the door, before it opens and Mazna looks up at her, squinting.

“Hello,” Lucretia starts before she gets cut off.

“Who is it?” Nura calls from somewhere inside.

“Our neighbor,” Mazna calls back.

“Which one?” Nura’s voice sounds closer.

“The new one.”

“Ahhh.” Nura appears in the hallways behind Mazna and smiles. “Hello Lucretia, come on in, I’ll put some coffee on.”

“Oh, no need, I was just wondering-” Lucretia tries, but then Mazna hurries her in and closes the door behind her as Nura goes to the kitchen. Shortly after, Lucretia finds herself sitting at their small round kitchen table with a cup of the strongest coffee she’s ever had, with Mazna and Nura sitting on either side.

“Now, what is it you wanted to ask?” Mazna asks, sipping at her coffee.

“Oh, well.” Lucretia looks down at her coffee before saying, “I’m going on a trip for… I’m not sure how long, but I was wondering if you’d be willing to watch my fish?”

“Your fish?” Nura tilts her head and raises her eyebrows.

“I have five in a tank,” Lucretia explains. “And they need to be fed.” She desperately hopes, all at once, that the floor will fall out from under her. _This was a terrible idea_.

“I’m so sorry, dear, but the two of us are leaving soon for an extended trip to Neverwinter.”

“Ah.” Lucretia’s heart sinks. “Never mind then, I hope you two have a good time.”

“You too!” Nura sips at her coffee before asking, “Where are you going?”

“Um.” Lucretia shrugs. “My… A few of my friends have pitched in so I can take a trip to Neverwinter as well, actually. They think I need to ‘get out more,’ so they bought me a one-way ticket and told me to figure out what to do next.”

Mazna bursts out laughing. Nura scowls at her wife before turning back to Lucretia. “That sounds lovely,” she says. “Mazna hush.” She sighs and smiles at Lucretia. “I hope you have a good time. If you’re looking for places to visit, then the Gleaming Basin up at the north is quite beautiful.”

Lucretia raises her eyebrows, taking another sip of her coffee. It’s so strong she has to keep herself from coughing, but sweet from the sugar. “I’ve heard that before. I’ve only been up around there once, but it wasn’t to sight-see. I’ll keep that in mind,” she says, setting her coffee down on the table. “Any museums up that way?”

“Not really,” Mazna says. “But around this time of year, the basin is frozen solid, and the ice sings.”

Lucretia raises her eyebrows, picking up her coffee again and taking another sip. Now that she’s expecting it to be strong, it’s really quite nice. “What do you mean it sings?”

“The ice cracks,” Nura explains. “And when the nice cracks, it reverberates and creates an eerie noise that can be heard for miles. When you view the lake from the mountains at night, if you’re lucky, you can see an aurora glinting off of it.”

“That sounds beautiful,” Lucretia says. She pulls a small notebook and pen from her pocket and write everything down.

“Huh. You really do write everything down,” Mazna muses. “More coffee?”

“No thank you,” Lucretia says. “I suppose I should go pack. Thank you anyway.”

“Of course.” Nura waves her hand as Lucretia gets up. “This was rather unfortunate timing, normally we would have agreed. I hope you find someone!”

Lucretia looks down at the cup of coffee in her hand and drinks the last bit of it before putting her cup down. She waves goodbye, and Nura walks her to the front door, letting her out with well-wishes. Lucretia returns to her apartment and looks around at the half-packed easel. With a sigh, she pulls her trusted messenger bag of holding out of her wardrobe and starts packing, wondering who she’s going to ask on such short notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy bleated New Year everyone! I meant to update earlier, but then I just didn't find the time and energy. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you to everyone who reads, I love writing this fic when I get the time to do so! Special thanks to the Mystery Kudoser (kudosers? Are there more than one of you?) We talk about you quite often in the TFW Discord, and I really appreciate the level of dedication.
> 
> See you all next time!


	11. Chapter 11

Angus McDonald is a very, very smart boy. He’s less than pleased when Taako calls him in the middle of the night but perks up after he’s told what the job is.

 _Find Lucretia._ Taako sounds aggravated and tired on the stone, and Angus makes a note of it in the little detective notebook he keeps by his bed. He then goes back to sleep.

The next morning, he gets up, dresses up in his very fancy clothes, puts on a very fancy hat and coat, puts on some average mittens Magnus made him for Candlenights, and goes to the Bureau to start his investigation. He hasn’t been given a deadline for this mystery, but he doesn’t have anything else going on right now, and besides, he was disappointed when Lucretia never showed up for Candlenights.

He’s surprised to find out she isn’t actually at the Bureau. He walks up to her secretary’s desk and says, “Excuse me, where’s the Director?”

Charlie glances at him and smiles. “Hello Mr. McDonald,” they say. “Director Lucretia is currently on vacation and is not to be disturbed. If there’s something you need our help with though, Interim Director Bradson can help. He’s down the hall in his office.”

“Oh, no thank you,” Angus says, hands clasped behind his back. “I just wanted to make a visit to her! I didn’t see her on Candlenights, so I just wanted to thank her for the present she sent me, and I thought it might be nice to surprise her with a visit!”

Charlie chuckles. “That does sound nice. Unfortunately, she’s not here, and she didn’t leave a forwarding address with us. I’d try calling her. She’s on leave until next year. Although, if you need her address, Carey and Killian might know it. They got permission from her to take and bring her something from her office, seeing as she’s effectively banned until her leave is done.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you, Secretary Dandibreek!” He skips back outside to the quad, pulling out his notebook and pen. _On vacation. Apparently didn’t tell anyone about this. Didn’t leave a forwarding address_.

He puts the notebook away and takes out his stone of farspeech. As he walks around the quad, old Bureau employees waving to him as newer hires mutter to each other, wondering why there’s a child wandering around. He makes sure his bracer is seen, and they mostly leave him alone. He waves back before finding a nice secluded place to make a call, and dials Lucretia’s frequency. He gets her voicemail.

“Hello Madam Director,” he says, feeling a little disappointed. “It’s me, Angus McDonald. I just wanted to-”

He gets interrupted by Lucretia answering.

“Good morning, Angus,” Lucretia sounds breathless. “How can I help you?”

“Oh! Not too much ma’am,” he says, smiling and standing a little straighter, even though she can’t see him. “I just wanted to thank you for your thoughtful Candlenights present! Have you gotten mine yet? I let it with Magnus.”

“Ah- No, I haven’t received it yet,” Lucretia says. “I haven’t seen Magnus in… a while. I’m sorry, Angus.”

“That’s alright, ma’am!” Angus sits down on a bench and swings his legs, pulling out a notepad and a pen. _Hasn’t seen Magnus for a while,_ he writes. “Could I have your address? I could send it directly to you!”

“That’s- That’s very thoughtful of you, Angus,” Lucretia says. “I’m afraid I won’t get it for some time though. I’m about to go on a trip, and I’ve let the post office know to hold my mail.”

“Oh. Well, that’s okay! This way it’ll be there for you when you get back!” Angus keeps his pen poised, waiting.

Lucretia sighs, sounding fond. “Alright then,” she says. “Do you need me to wait for you to get a pen and some paper out?”

“I’ve got some here,” Angus says, and a moment later, he writes it down as she gives her address to him.

“Angus? I have a small request,” Lucretia says after he confirms the address with her.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Please don’t give out my address to anyone else. I don’t- I’m not keen on receiving visitors at the moment.”

Angus frowns, sticking the end of his pen in his mouth. “Why’s that?”

“Just… I’m living in relative anonymity here,” she says. “I’m sure you understand, I’d like to continue that way, and my family is not exactly… subtle.”

Angus giggles before pulling on his professional front again. “No, they’re really not,” he says. He puts his notepad and pen away. “May I ask where you’re going?”

She tells him, in full detail, about the trip Lucas Miller has planned for her on Carey and Killian’s request. “I leave tomorrow,” she says. “The Neverwinter Express at a quarter to three.”

“Those are always nice,” Angus says. “I like afternoon trips, because then, depending on the length of the trip, and which side you’re sitting on, you can see the sunset!”

Lucretia laughs softly. “Thank you, Angus. I’ll have to keep that in mind.” She sighs then. “I’m going to get back to packing now. Thank you for calling; I’m glad you like your book.”

“Okay. Goodbye, Director!”

“Goodbye, Angus.”

There’s a soft click as she hangs up, and Angus pulls the stone away from his ear, tucking it under his shirt, pondering the dilemma on his hands. _On the one hand, I have her address now. On the other hand, I’ve promised not to tell anyone what her address is._ He huffs and gets up. _Well, okay, technically I never promised, but she trusts me to keep it a secret for her, and I can’t break her trust like that. I suppose I should talk to Taako and see why he wanted me to find her in the first place._

Angus strolls to the hanger, Avi greeting him as he walks in. “Where to, kiddo?”

“Hello, sir. Taako and Lup’s house please.” Angus waits patiently as Avi gets one of the cannons prepped for him, then waves and says goodbye when he gets in.

He only has to wait a moment after he first knocks for the door to open. Barry smiles at him and steps aside to let him come in. “Hey, Angus. I didn’t know you had magic lessons today?”

“Hello Mr. Barry. I don’t, but Mr. Taako has me on a case right now.”

“Really? Huh.” Barry follows him. “What sort of case?”

“Finding Director Lucretia,” he replies. He can hear the radio on in the kitchen and so he makes his way in, finding Lup and Taako making a late breakfast. Brunch. Angus checks his watch. Definitely brunch, bordering on breakfast-for-lunch. They’re wearing matching onsies, or so Angus assumes, given the top of Taako’s is obstructed by a large sweatshirt that he’s pretty sure actually belongs to Magnus. Barry, meanwhile, looks fully dressed in his usual jeans and white shirt, although Angus isn’t sure if these are “sleep jeans” or regular jeans. He’s a little afraid to ask.

“Hey, Ango!” Taako looks over his shoulder. “Any updates?”

“Yes,” Angus says. “I called Lucretia and got her address-”

“She picked up the stone for you?” Lup says, frowning as she places a glass of orange juice in front of him.

“Thanks ma’am. Yes, although she let it run to voicemail first, making me think she screens her calls.” He picks up the orange juice. “I got her address, but I can’t give it to you because she says she doesn’t want people to know it and made me promise to keep a secret.” He takes a sip as Barry sits across from him.

Taako makes a frustrated noise. “She just can’t make anything easy, can she?”

Lup rolls her eyes, sitting down at the table as Taako sticks the whatever-they’re-making in the oven. “Can you at least tell us whether or not she’s in Goldcliff?”

Angus thinks about it for a moment, tilting his head before nodding slowly. “I can firmly tell you she lives in Goldcliff,” he says. “Did you know she’s on vacation? Brad Bradson is currently acting as interim director while she’s gone. Her secretary also told me that Carey and Killian got permission to get something from her office to bring to her, so _they_ might know where she lives. Secretary Dandibreek—that’s her secretary—says she didn’t leave a forwarding address, so I suspect she told them to contact her via her stone of farspeech. Another reason I think she’s screening her calls,” he adds. He puts his orange juice down and clutches the edge of his chair.

“Well, great.” Taako leans back in his chair, letting his head fall back as he lets out another groan. “And you can’t tell us her address… because…?”

“Because I made a promise and that would be breaking my word, sir! I would do the same thing for you, too.” Angus frowns.

“Ugh, sometimes you’re too loyal,” Taako mutters and tilts his head to look at the timer he set.

“But this is a start!” Lup gets up and starts pacing slowly, hands clasped and pressed to her chin. “I think maybe we should call a family meeting. Maybe we need to stage some sort of intervention?”

“Those don’t really work, though,” Barry says unhelpfully.

Angus listens to the conversation quietly, falling into the background before something occurres to him. “Sir, why did you want to find her in the first place? It seemed urgent.”

“It wasn’t that urgent,” Taako replies, shrugging a shoulder.

“You called me in the middle of the night!”

“Yeah, and?” Taako says, although Barry gives him a funny look. No one says anything and Taako eventually glances around before huffing. “No reason! I mean, Barry and Lup were freaked out because they couldn’t find her, and Magnus has been so damn _mopey_ about the whole thing, and we have a freaking detective _right here_.” He gestures to Angus with one hand but looks uncomfortable. Angus files that away to write down later as Taako continues, “I figured, why not? You’d probably track her down in like five minutes, and I was right! Except now he won’t tell us anything!” He narrows his eyes at Angus and jabs a finger at him. “You’re not getting paid.”

“You didn’t offer to pay me, sir,” Angus says with a grin. “Besides, there’s really no point in giving you her address. She’s going on a trip to Neverwinter tomorrow night. She said she was packing.”

“A long trip?” Barry asks as Lup goes to peer into the oven.

“Seems like it. Dr. Miller is paying for it, apparently it was Carey and Killian’s suggestion.”

Taako lifts his head, frowning. “Really? Huh. Weird.” Taako sits up a little more. “Wait, does that mean _he_ knows where Lucretia lives before us? That’s bullshit. Lup, that’s bullshit!”

“Yeah!” Lup opens the oven and peers inside before scrunching her nose and adding more time to the timer.

“We should go interrogate him,” Taako continues. “He’s still scared shitless of Krav, so I’m sure he’d give it up in a heartbeat. I can’t believe _Lucas fucking Miller_ …” He gets up from his chair, still grumbling.

Angus decides to change the subject. “What are you making?” he says, sniffing. There’s cinnamon and nutmeg in the air.

“Baked French toast!” Lup says. “I haven’t had it since I got my body back. You want some? There will absolutely be enough, we made a fuckton. Shit, sorry, I probably shouldn’t say fuck in front of a kid.”

“It’s okay, ma’am, I’ve heard much, much worse,” Angus assures her. “I would love some, please!”

Lup smiles fondly at him and comes over, patting his head. “You can take your coat and hat off, you know,” she teases. “Hang ‘em up, stay a while.”

“I can take them.” Barry gets up, and Angus quickly gives him his hat and coat. When Barry returns, he sits back down and takes out his stone of farspeech. “Maybe we should call together a family meeting,” he says. “And really talk about Lucretia. I know Davenport can’t meet with us, unless we go get him, but really, keeping her address a secret from us? This… is excessive, to say the least.”

“She’s avoiding us,” Taako says bluntly, getting up and going to the fridge, taking out some maple syrup. “You should’a seen the way she avoided me and Krav when we bumped into each other. Thought she was gonna have a damn heart attack or something.”

“She probably thinks you all hate her,” Angus says, picking up his orange juice again. “Or maybe wants to give you all room?”

Taako rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, we know that,” he says, waving a hand. He pours some of the maple syrup into a little pitcher and puts it in the microwave. “The problem is, we’re kind of over it? I can’t speak to Davenport, but I know for a fact that man sends her just as much mail as he sends us. Not our fault she doesn’t get it.”

“The problem is that she doesn’t seem to think we want to see her,” Lup says. “Even though I’ve been trying my best to make sure she knows that’s… not the case?” She sighs and shakes her head, picking up oven mitts to pull the pan out of the oven. She sets it on the table and Angus smiles, craning his neck to peer into the dish. The French toast is a beautiful golden brown and sizzling hot. The microwave beeps and Taako takes out the maple syrup, dumping it over the dish before producing a knife, cutting it as Lup and Barry get plates and silverware. Angus soon has a nice slice for himself, and thanks Lup and Taako before digging in.

When the meal is over, Angus decides it’s time to go. “Thank you for the meal,” he says, overly stuffed and happy. “Oh! Let me take the Director’s present back so I can send it to her.”

“Mm. Mind sending her ours as well?” Lup says. “I can portal you to the post office if you like.” She summons her scythe, but Angus just shakes his head.

“No thank you, ma’am,” he says. “But I can take your presents.” He opens his bag of holding and carefully places the presents inside before saying his goodbyes and heading out. As soon as he’s out of sight, he pulls out his notebook and writes down, _When asked why he wanted to know the Director’s address, Taako looked uncomfortable. What happened last night that caused him to call me? Even Barry seems to think it’s odd that he called me in the middle of the night. I did not let Lup come with me to the post office; she would likely try to get a glimpse of the Director’s address. Will pursue answers_.

Angus puts his notebook away, straightens his hat and coat, and carries on, the mystery afoot.

* * *

After she gets off her call with Angus, Lucretia looks around her apartment. She has some clothes laid out on her bed, a messenger bag of holding to put it all into, the folder with her itinerary and tickets, and the journal Carey and Killian gave her. After considering for a moment, she adds another two journals, and a case of pens with varying tips. She has an extra wand and crystal focus, just in case, although she’s already determined she’s bringing her staff with her. If nothing else, it makes a good walking stick.

She’s put a lot of good work into this staff to just leave it behind.

 _Now I just have to think about what to do with my fish,_ she thinks, crossing her arms. _I suppose I could give them feeders, but I don’t know when I’m coming back_. She looks down at her stone of farspeech, sitting down on the edge of the bed. _I suppose I could just go to Neverwinter and then come back, and do the rest of the trip later…_

An idea sparks and she sits up, tilting her head. “Would Sloane and Hurley do it? I don’t want to inconvenience them, but they’re the only ones who even live in the city. I suppose I could ask other neighbors, but I don’t really _know_ them…”

Lucretia chews on her lip before sighing. _The worst they can say is no,_ she thought, and put in their frequency. The stone dials a few times before Hurley picks up with a, “Yep?”

“Hello, Officer Hurley,” Lucretia says. “It’s Lucretia.”

“Oh, hey Lucretia,” Hurley says. “Something up?”

“Not- Not like that,” Lucretia says. “I just- I’m taking yours and Sloane’s advice. I’m… going on a trip, but I need someone to feed my fish while I’m gone.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Your fish?” Hurley says.

“Yes, my fish,” she confirms. “I don’t really know anyone in my city, and my neighbors are going to be away as well.”

Another beat of silence. “Hold on a sec,” Hurley says, then Lucretia hears unintelligible whisperings. “Sloane wants to know what kind of fish and how many?”

“Bettas, five,” Lucretia says. “They’re in a big tank with vertical dividers so they can’t see each other.”

“Nice,” she hears Sloane in the background. “Yeah, I can do that!”

Lucretia breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you. What would you like me to pay you…?”

“Pfft, don’t worry about it,” Hurley says. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow,” Lucretia says. “My neighbors are taking care of them for the first few days, then leaving though, so you won’t need to be responsible for them for the entire time. I also don’t know when I’ll be back. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Hurley says. “Do you just want to move them here? We could take care of them full time. Sloane already seems pretty hyped.”

“Oh!” Lucretia bites her lip and looks at the tank. “That… should be doable? Like I said though, there’s five of them in one very large tank…”

There’s mumbling on the other end before Sloane says, “I can come by today and help move them if you want! I’ve got containers and stuff; the fish won’t be bothered by it.”

“You’re sure?” Lucretia says, and a little worry seeps into her voice.

“Of course I’m sure,” Sloane says flippantly. “I’m a druid, I can absolutely handle moving some fish. What’s your address? I’ll be right over.”

Lucretia grins despite herself and gives it. “You know, you’re the second person to ask,” she says.

“Huh, funny. Be there soon!”

They hang up and Lucretia puts her stone down. Her apartment is a bit of a mess. Her art supplies is somehow everywhere again—she still hasn’t packed up her travel easel—and there’s also clothes hanging out of the closet. She cleans up, leaving what she’s going to pack on the bed. Just as she’s finished shoving everything into the closet, there’s a knock at the door. Lucretia opens it, and frowns when she sees Sloane standing there with a canvas bag of containers.

“Don’t I have to let you into the building?” Lucretia says, letting her in. “How did you-”

“Professional thief, remember?” Sloane says. “Or, _reformed_ professional thief.” She shrugs. “I’m just goofing. I already knew the door code.”

“ _Unless_ ,” Lucretia mutters under her breath.

Sloane laughs, then sees the fishtank and gasps, eyes going wide. “Oh my- Look at these cuties!” She sprints over and all but presses her nose to the glass, grinning ear to ear. “I love them already. Okay.” She pulls out one of the containers from her bag. “Let’s start, huh? They’re usually not too hard to catch.”

Lucretia walks over, hovering as Sloane dips her hand in. “Hey guys,” Sloane says. “We’re going to move you for a while, that good? Please get in the container. Please. Please get in the- You know, we can get a net instead. I brought a net.”

The fish move fairly easily after that, each one swimming into their container easily, except for Angry Peat, who swims into his castle instead, poking his head out to glare. Sloane picks up the castle. “Nah, I’m not playing,” she tells him. “Come on, Peat.”

Lucretia continues to hover, her arms full of wet containers of her four other fish. Finally, Sloane catches him, closes the top, and Lucretia breathes a sign of relief.

“Alright, cool,” Sloane says, starting to pull out the décor from the tank. “Got a trashbag or something? We’ll want to take some of the water, it’ll be good for the algae cycle.”

“I was planning on just shrinking the whole thing,” she said. “Would that work?”

“Oh, yeah.” Sloane rubs her chin. “I dunno, you’re the wizard. _Would_ that work?”

Lucretia hands her the containers of fish and gets her staff and spellbook, flipping through and reading her notes. “Yeah, it should work,” she says, and casts the spell. The whole thing goes off without a hitch, and Sloane grins. “Dang, it’s almost the size of a regular fishtank now. “I should have brought like a little cart or something.”

“I can levitate it,” Lucretia suggests. “I just have to concentrate.”

“That’ll have to be good enough. Fortunately, Hurley and I don’t live that far from here.”

They head out, Lucretia pulling on her coat and bringing her staff. People move out of the way of the floating fish tank fairly quickly, and although Lucretia has to cast the spell again before they get there, everything goes well. When they reach Hurley and Sloane’s garage, Lucretia can see Hurley’s battlewagon and Hurley standing with one arm around herself, taking angrily on her stone of farspeech. Sloane frowns and walks over, and Lucretia follows.

Hurley hangs up as they reach her and turns to Sloane. “McCarthy just backed out on me!” she says. “You know how hard it’s gonna be to find someone decent to partner with?”

Sloane grins. “Hurls, I’m pretty sure anyone would want to ride with you. We’re kind of legendary.”

“Okay, yeah, but someone _decent_?”

Sloane snorts. “I’ll be back on this in a minute, okay? Fishtank.”

“Fishtank,” Hurley agrees and goes back to her battlewagon, waving at Lucretia. Lucretia follows Sloane into their apartment above the garage and sets the tank down, enlarging it again.

“So what was that all about?” she asks as Sloane sets up the heater. Lucretia places the fish down on a nearby table.

Sloane sighs. “Hurley’s been wanting a partner out on the track again,” she says. “But I’m in finances and… I actually really like it? And well.” She pauses and glances over her shoulder. “It’s been hard. Getting back on the track after the belt.” She shrugs a shoulder, giving Lucretia a wry grin. “I don’t really want to go back to racing right now. It does mean though that we’ve been trying to find a racing partner for Hurley. The last two we’ve gone through weren’t really what she was looking for, and now this one has backed out before the race she’s got tomorrow.” She shrugged. “She can handle it on her own, no doubt, it’s just irritating.”

Lucretia nods slowly. “What time is the race tomorrow?”

“Early,” Sloane says, seeming to relax a little. “We get there around six to line up the battlewagons and then make sure everyone’s battlewagon is up to code. We make sure everyone has their safety harness. The crowd starts coming in around ten o’clock, and that’s also when the betting opens up. People get their bets in by eleven, and then the race starts at noon. The race itself is usually fairly short, depending on how it goes. Maybe half an hour? You should be out of there at one o’clock at the latest, really, depending on how rowdy the fans get.”

“Huh.” Lucretia sits down. “What does she need a partner to do?”

“So, Hurley drives, and her partner generally deflects incoming battlewagons and send out attacks.”

“Sounds interesting,” Lucretia says. She thinks for a moment. _My train leaves at a quarter to three. The race track is about half an hour away from the train station, and the train leaves at a quarter to three. That gives me plenty of time to go back to my apartment, change clothes, and get there_. “Do you think she’d mind if I joined her for tomorrow?”

Sloane looks up at her, her eyebrows raising slowly. “You want to race? Really?”

Lucretia shrugs. “I mean, I’ve never done it before, but weren’t you the one telling me to get out more?”

Sloane laughs at that, some petals falling to the ground. “I sure did!” She takes a step or two away from Lucretia, looking her up and down. “I think that would be just fine, Lucretia,” she says, giving her a devilish smile. “Tell me though: what sort of animal do you think represents you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Long time no see! Thank you for reading, thank you for commenting, and thank you for leaving kudos! I am two weeks into my Spring semester, and I already feel like I should be halfway through. I needed a break, and realized I mostly had this chapter done! Thank you again, and I hope you all enjoy!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning for a panic attack towards the end of this chapter.

Lucretia’s alarm goes off at 4am. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but Lucretia dresses in some comfortable clothes and finishes some last-minute packing. She makes sure everything is in her bag of holding and leaves it with her travel easel by the door just in case she needs to grab them and run. She then pulls on her coat, grabs her staff, and is out the door at exactly 4:30am, and gets to the racetrack at 5am. The sun hasn’t risen yet, and—unsurprisingly, since it’s not 6 yet—there’s practically no one around. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but Lucretia casts Light on her journal, and writes in the hour before Sloane finds her.

“Ah, there you are,” Sloane says, smiling when she sees Lucretia. “Hurley’s lining her wagon up. We’re going to give you- Well, I’d be lying if I said, ‘the time of your life,’ but I hope it gets close.”

Lucretia smiles a little as Sloane leads her to where she and Hurley have their setup. Hurley is under the battlewagon, working on it some more, and Sloane goes to dig around in a box. She pulls out a wolf mask and hands it to Lucretia.

“Battlewagon racing isn’t illegal anymore,” she says. “But the masks are still a cool tradition. Technically you don’t need to wear it, and with _that_ on, people might just recognize you, but it’ll give you some anonymity until people do. Anyway, it’s a fun souvenir to keep when we’re done.”

Lucretia frowns and looks down at herself before realizing she’s grabbed her IPRE robe instead of her usual coat. She puts her mask, thinking, _Oh well. I’ll just change it when I go back to my apartment._

Hurley sits up and grabs a towel, wiping the grease off her hands and face. “Hey, Lucretia,” she says, grinning from ear to ear. “Just out of curiosity, why a wolf?”

Lucretia looks down at the mask in her hands. “Word association,” she says. “I was thinking about the Bureau headquarters being the moon.” She doesn’t say anything about being a lone wolf. She doesn’t want the pitying looks.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. Also, I guess being a leader? I can see it.” Hurley nods. “You ready to win today?”

“As much as I’ll ever be,” Lucretia says as Sloane hands her a safety harness. “You?”

“Oh, yeah, no question. I’m glad to have you racing with me.” Hurley looks at Sloane with a smile before grabbing her mask. “Now, the whole thing doesn’t start until noon, but we figured we’d give you a tour and the rundown. There’s still rules against scoping out the competition, but because people have to properly register now, it’s not hard to get a copy of the registration list if you know the right people.”

“Which I have,” Sloane says, grinning as she pulls out a piece of paper. “Although I just… stole it off of them.”

Lucretia looks at Hurley, who just shrugs. “What?” she says. “I ain’t responsible for her. This isn’t my district either, so I don’t have arresting powers out here. Also, I’m off duty. And I like winning.”

“Of course,” Lucretia says with a grin. She’s offered a seat, and she takes it while Sloane starts rattling off team names.

“The crickets are still here, be careful of them,” Sloane says, looking over the list. “They haven’t done any _really_ illegal shit since we got this shindig legalized, but they’re known to still pull some dick moves. The Hamsters are still out there, as are the Octopi. There’s are two new teams called the Rattlers and the Toads. The Rattlers sound like they’ve got some sort of snake theme going on. Which is cool, we haven’t had any snake-themed parties since… Hurley, when was that?”

“The last snake team?” Hurley grabs her water bottle and frowns, squinting into the middle-distance. “That was… Huh. I think they all died in that one accident, the one that happened a year after I started with you?”

“Oh, right that whole thing. _Yeesh_.” Sloane goes back to the list and Lucretia takes out the bag of almonds she nabbed before setting out, starting to munch on them. Sloane watches her. “Hey,” she says to Lucretia. “Did you eat breakfast?”

“Uh.” Lucretia looks down at her bag of almonds and pistachios. “I’ve got this.” She holds the bag up.

Sloane squints at her. “Nope,” she says, putting her clipboard away. “Nope, sorry, not doing that shit, come on there’s a cafe here somewhere, we’re getting you some actual food.” She all but drags Lucretia out of the room. As Lucretia turns back, she sees Hurley grinning, and waves at her before the two of them go around the corner. Lucretia doesn’t try to get out of Sloane’s grip, but the grip loosens anyway from vicelike to handcuff. Sloane’s still talking, but Lucretia has long since tuned it out until she’s plopped down in another chair. Sure enough, they’ve gone back into the city to the first coffeeshop around. Sloane tells her to stay put, and Lucretia watches as she marches towards the counter.

 _This person survived a Relic,_ Lucretia remembers as Sloane orders as the baristas scramble around. _This person willingly gave up a Relic_. Sloane has her hands on her hips, placing her weight evenly on both feet and still has her raven mask on. She cuts an intimidating figure without trying, and Lucretia can easily see her strength.

She comes back with a mug of tea, a mug of coffee, and a plate with a bagel and a few packets of cinnamon cream cheese. She sets them down in front of Lucretia and says, “Dig in. You’re gonna need it.”

“Mm, carbs,” Lucretia says, picking up one of the cream cheese packets and a knife. “My favorite.”

Slone smirks. “You need anything for your tea? I wasn’t sure.”

“No, thanks,” Lucretia says, reaching for the bowl of sugar, dumping in approximately half the bowl. She takes off her mask and sets it aside so she can eat properly. “How do you make the masks so you can see so well out of them?”

Sloane smiles. “Trade secret,” she says with a wink, and sips at her coffee. “Although, it’s really Hurley who makes the masks. You should’ve seen what I wore before, it was pretty shitty. It was just a bandanna around my mouth and nose, some goggles, and a black hood. The hood wasn’t as practical for racing though.”

“I imagine not,” Lucretia says. Sloane grins and sits back in her chair, sipping at her tea and gazing out the window. Lucretia continues to watch her for a while, taking in the flowers that seem to be forever blooming in the place of her hair, the delicate line of her jaw, and the way she keeps glancing back at Lucretia.

“What are you thinking about?” Sloane asks after a moment, turning her head to fully look at Lucretia.

Lucretia tilts her head to the side, finishing her bite of bagel before she speaks. “You’re an incredibly strong person.”

Sloane raises her brow in surprise. “Oh. Thanks, I guess.” She looks away again towards the window. “You’re talking about the sash, right?”

“Yes,” Lucretia admits. “But… in general too.” She takes a sip of her tea. “It takes a very strong person to be able to give up a relic after being so far thralled. I’d never seen it done before. Before you, I didn’t know it was a possibility. I’d seen people give up a relic before, but only when they’d never obtained one in the first place.” She trails off as Sloane looks at her again.

“I mean,” Sloane holds out a hand, looking it over. “I’m kind of a tree now.”

Lucretia tilts her head. “You’re alive. Is being a dryad… bad?”

Sloane considers for a moment, taking a sip at her mug. “There are pros and cons.” She shrugs. “We’ve had some trouble, but we’re figuring them out together, and that’s always nice. It’s nice, not being alone.”

Lucretia nods, taking another bite of her bagel. She chews and swallows slowly, considering her words before she says, “It’s always nice to have people around that are going through the same things.”

Sloane grinned. “Guess you’d know best, huh? How is everyone doing, by the way?”

“They’re doing well,” she says. _As far as I know_. “Davenport is still traveling around; I haven’t heard much from him. Magnus’s dog school has been quite popular. Lup and Barry are doing well in the Reaper business. Taako’s been touring, I assume you’ve seen the advertisements. And Merle is… He’s running a summer camp for kids, I think. Some sort of survival lessons, or nature appreciation. Oh, and he’s apparently the governor or earl of Bottlenose Cove?”

The last one pulls a laugh out of Sloane. “I’m glad you’re keeping in contact with at least a couple of them. Hurley and I were worried when you called last night; we thought you’d call someone in your family to look after the fish. Not that I’m complaining, of course, they’re adorable.” She pauses and shakes her head. “Are you doing okay though? How was your Candlenights?”

“Fine,” Lucretia says briefly, guilt stirring in her stomach at her omissions of truth. “Had dinner one night with a friend.”

“Good.” Sloane looks a little more relaxed, and Lucretia looks down at her tea. “Yeah, we stayed in for Candlenights. Neither of us have a lot of family, so it was just the two of us.”

Lucretia carries on making smalltalk with Sloane until her food and tea is finished, and Sloane is done with her coffee. The two of them head back to the racetrack, pausing as they leave the city to watch the sun starting to rise. The light reflects off of the cliffs, and the two of them stand and watch for a moment longer.

“Hey, I’m gonna go in,” Sloane says. “You can stay out here as long as you want, just make sure to come in when time is called, alright?”

Lucretia nods and Sloane pats her shoulder before going in, waving hello to a couple of familiar faces. Lucretia pulls a journal out of the large pocket of her robe and does a quick sketch of the mountains and what Lucretia presumes is golden light starting to cover the desert.

 _Today I’m going to be in a battlewagon race, under the alias of The Wolf,_ she writes on the opposite page. _I’ve never done battlewagon racing before, but perhaps it’ll be nice to have the wind on my face again. The last time I was somewhere with battlewagons was…_

She pauses there, thinking back with a frown. Sure, there were battlewagon- _adjacent_ vehicles in several cycles, but none of them beat the utter tanks from cycle 65. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with this revelation.

 _The tanks in cycle 65 were close,_ she finishes writing and closes her journal, putting it away as she heads towards the track. _I’m sure this will be fine,_ she thinks to herself, pulling her mask back on as people start turning their heads towards her. She can hear them whispering, pointing at her, but once she goes in and the mask is on, she becomes a stranger.

She’s a stranger either way, she thinks. Sure, people might know her through the story broadcasted directly into their brains, but they don’t _know_ her. Not really. Lucretia goes into the garage to find Hurley and Sloane getting ready. They glance over as she comes in, and Hurley beckons her over.

“Okay,” she says, “Lucretia, your job is to both make and defend from attacks.” She pauses there before tilting her head. “Unless you’d like to drive.”

“I can do attack-based things,” Lucretia says, crossing her arms.

“That’s what we like to hear!” Hurley says, and Lucretia can’t see her face under the mask, but can see her eyes smiling. “But seriously, if you need to break and drive for a while, we can switch you over. It’s not _optimal_ for speed, but she runs pretty fast.” She pats her battlewagon affectionately. “Alright then! You got your harness? Got your mask?”

Lucretia nods, grinning from under the mask.

“Alright then, let’s get this show on the road!” Hurley pulls her own mask down and climbs up into the wagon. Lucretia jumps on after, hooking herself to the guard rails.

Soon after, a voice comes through the mic. _“Racers! Get into your battlewagons!”_

A minute or so later, the same voice calls, _“Start your ignitions! Remember, no illegal shit on the track! Ready! Set!”_

The door drops and Sloane says, “Have fun! Love you, babe!”

It’s the last thing Lucretia hears before Hurley slams on it, and they shoot forward like lightning. Lucretia grabs onto the railing for support before she laughs out loud, her voice mingling with Hurley’s whoops of joy.

The first wagon that speeds close looks like a toboggan, with people wearing lion masks. Lucretia sends a fireball at them as they send what appears to be claws at their own wagon. She puts up a quick shield and the claws bounce off, and Hurley yells something incomprehensible as wind fills Lucretia’s ears. She lowers the shield and sends a Spray of Frost at the toboggan, causing them to veer away into the dust again.

They approach another wagon, this one shaped like a hamster ball, and Lucretia has vague memories of watching Magnus, Taako, and Merle race against this team. They hurl themselves at Lucretia, who casts Grease on the ground in front of the hamster ball, then puts up another shield. As the hamster ball collides, it bounces off and spins wildly, unable to gain any traction off the grease

“Hell yeah!” Hurley yells. There’s cheering in the stands and Lucretia grips the rail. Another battlewagon comes out of the dust around them, this one in the shape of a shark’s head. Lucretia looks back at it and tries to think of another spell, but the cheering from the crowd and noise from the battlewagons makes it hard to focus. She shakes her head.

 _Pay attention. Cast a spell, any spell_. She puts a hand out, casting Reduce on the shark wagon, then Sleet Storm.

“Doing great, ‘Creesh!” Hurley calls from the driver’s seat. “They haven’t landed a single blow on us yet!”

Lucretia grins and turns forward as they approach a wagon in front of them. It does, in fact, look like a snake, with a body that whips back and forth, making it nearly impossible to pass.

“Get that thing out of the way,” Hurley shouts. Lucretia nods and casts Magic Missile at it, but although the missiles hit, they don’t seem to do much damage. She casts Shatter at the head of the battlewagon, and the battlewagon slows to a stop, smoking a little, the window at the front completely cracked. Hurley cheers and speeds on. Past them they go, and Hurley yells, “Watch out!”

Lucretia looks up as a tentacle reaches for her, and too late she casts Fire Bolt. The spell shoots by it, and the tentacle grabs her. The carabiner keeping her attached to the railing snaps and she flies through the air as she thinks, _Oh, shit!_

She lands in a large fishbowl, but there’s no blue-ringed octopus. The octopus that _is_ there just sits on the side of the glass, looking a little grumpy. The water only comes up to her knees, but there _is_ a lid that keeps her trapped inside. _Thank god for the no-killing regulations,_ she think.

Lucretia looks around before casting Thunderwave, cracking the glass. The octopus shoots towards her, inking the water black, and wraps itself around one of her legs. She looks down at it. “Look, I really don’t have the time for this,” she says. The octopus glares back at her as if it can understand and climbs its way up her until its resting around her middle. She sighs. “Alright then, suit yourself.”

She hits the glass with her staff once, twice, three times, and the thick glass shatters. She casts Hideous Laughter on the driver, then Dimension Door to get back to Hurley’s battlewagon, the octopus refusing to stay behind. While she was gone, though, it seems Hurley’s wagon took some hits. There’s smoke coming out of the back now, and Lucretia goes back to see what she can do.

“Hey!” Hurley calls. “Is your harness still alright?”

“Yeah,” Lucretia calls, and casts Mending on the battlewagon. Her wolf mask is a little lopsided, and she rights it as she continues to cast Mending. It doesn’t do too much, but it at least covers some of the damage, so it doesn’t get even more broken. “I’ve apparently adopted an octopus.”

“What?” Hurley calls back. “Never mind, tell me later. Hang on, we’re getting close!”

Lucretia grabs the railing as Hurley kicks the battlewagon into full speed, and there’s more sand and wind flying into Lucretia’s face. She realizes that the mask is also for protection from the elements, and she crouches down a bit to try and avoid some of the wind. The octopus, displeased by all of this, gets off of her and slinks into the battlewagon for safety.

“Hey, Lucretia?” Hurley calls from inside a moment later. “What the _fuck_?”

“Later!” As a shadow comes over her, Lucretia looks up to see a massive shape move over the battlewagon. She gets up, eyes wide, just in time to see what must be a battlewagon leaping over them like a toad towards the finish line, now in front of them. Inside of the eyes, she can see a people—two gnomes, one in each eye—in a toad masks driving.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Lucretia waits for it to leap again and casts Gust of Wind, blowing it off its track.

“Good catch!” Hurley calls. They’re so close to the finish, Lucretia can see it, can feel it, before Hurley calls out, “Lucretia, watch out!”

Lucretia whips around only just in time for her brain to process what’s happening. The Toad battlewagon has its mouth open, and a tongue-like contraption hits her, sticking to her, and promptly lifts her into the air, before launching her. She shrieks, unable to properly cast Featherfall before she’s hitting the ground. It’s harmless; her safety harness activates just as it ought to, and there’s nothing broken, but the wind is knocked out of her. After a moment, she’s just lying in the desert sand. There’s grit all over her, she can hear the screaming of the audience. She can’t see, all she can hear is screaming, and a scene flashes before her eyes.

She’s lying on red sand and there’s a voice screaming her name over the loud roaring of blasterfire. She needs to hide and get back to the Starblaster, she can’t _afford_ to turn back and help, because by all the Gods in the Pantheon, she _needs to make it_ -

Someone touches her shoulder, and Lucretia whips out a hand, struggling to get away. Her hand hits nothing.

“Lucretia! Lucretia, it’s me, it’s Sloane, are you okay?”

Lucretia can’t even speak. She’s fairly sure she’s dying. There’s something wrapped around her face and it’s making it hard to breathe. She tries to take it off, but the ties are tangled in her hair. Her brain is urging her to run, but her legs seem unresponsive. There are hands on her again, and she gasps, trying to pull away.

“Lucretia, it’s me, it’s Sloane, are you hurt?”

 _Is_ she hurt? Lucretia tries to take stock of herself. She’s crying, she thinks, and Hurley appears.

“Sloane, get her to the apartment, the press is gonna be here soon,” Hurley says.

“In a minute.” Sloane takes Lucretia’s hands and murmurs some words. Soon, the familiar feeling of healing magic washes over her, and Lucretia feels like she’s slamming back into reality. She’s in Goldcliff. She just finished a race with Hurley. She’s crouched like a child in the sand, and Sloane is kneeling next to her. Lucretia closes her eyes, hands clutching at her stomach as she sits back on her heels, trying not to vomit. The image of blood on red sand burns in her mind, and her mask still feels stifling. She reaches up again, desperate to get it off.

“Not yet. Let’s get you out of here first,” Sloane mutters and slips an arm under her armpit, helping her to her feet. “There’s cameras around, Hurley’s dealing with them and- and something about an octopus? Anyway, if you take your mask off, everyone is going to figure out who you are. They might already know, but they can’t prove it yet. I know a shortcut outta here.”

Lucretia only nods, unable to find the breath to speak. People around her are still screaming, and she knows it’s in celebration of another race completed, but she can’t help but try to cover her ears.

Another spell washes over her and all noise vanishes. Lucretia looks around wildly, stumbling over her own feet and pulling away from Sloane. Sloane only presses a finger to her lips before beckoning Lucretia back towards her. The two of them slip away through the crowd unnoticed, and back into the city. Before too long, Lucretia feels the Deafen spell lift. There’s no more screaming, and she isn’t exactly sure how they got here, but Sloane is leading her down an alleyway. When they stop, Sloane turns and puts her hands on Lucretia’s shoulders.

They stop, and Sloane turns to her, putting her hands on her shoulders.

“Hey,” Sloane says, keeping her voice low. “Sorry I didn’t warn you before doing that. You just seemed to be getting a little overwhelmed. How are you doing?”

Lucretia makes a noise, and finally the ties for her mask come loose, and it slides off. “I’m- It’s-” She takes a deep breath, trying to pull herself from the brink of another breakdown. “I’m not doing great,” she admits with some difficulty.

Sloane nods and looks around. “I’ll take you back to our place,” she says. “You can lay down there for a bit. Is there anyone you want me to call?”

Lucretia shakes her head vehemently. “No,” she says. “No, please, I’m- I don’t want you to call anyone.” _I don’t want anyone to know,_ she thinks. _Please, don’t let them know. They can’t know. They’ll-_

She realizes Sloane’s been talking to her and is waiting for a reply to some question. She stares at Sloane wordlessly.

“…You didn’t hear any of that, huh.” Sloane looks a little worried.

“Not even a little,” Lucretia says, giving a little nervous laugh.

“That’s alright,” Sloane says. “I asked if you were ready to keep going.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Lucretia swipes at her eyes. She’s crying, still. “Thanks, yes.”

“Cool. Follow me.” Sloane leads the way and Lucretia tries to keep up. Sloane isn’t even walking very fast, but Lucretia can’t seem to stop her mind from replaying the same scene over and over in her mind. Gunshots. Screaming. Pandemonium. Blood. Sand. Blood.

“You know,” Sloane murmurs to her. “You don’t have to keep it together if you don’t want to. I won’t judge.”

That is the wrong thing to say. The last word echoes in Lucretia’s ears, _Judges, the Judges, the Four, Accuser, Judge, Jury, Executioner_.

“We’re here,” Sloane says, and leads Lucretia into a small townhouse. There’s stairs leading up and down, and Sloane continues, “We live up here, the landlady lives below us. She’s probably at her grandkid’s place. She’s kind of a bitch but I think she’s too afraid of us to raise our rent.”

Normally the comments would get a laugh out of Lucretia. Now, she just nods and follows Sloane up the stairs to their place. Sloane unlocks the door to their apartment and steers Lucretia over to the sofa. Lucretia appreciates that Sloane doesn’t touch her, but the two of them sit down.

“So, uh,” Sloane says. “What was that about?”

Lucretia remains quiet for a minute. She no longer feels like she’s dying, although her breathing isn’t very steady. Her brain’s screaming that they aren’t safe has quieted some. “It’s the trauma,” she says at last. She feels exhausted, and there’s sand everywhere. “Sorry about the sand.”

“We’re used to it,” Sloane says. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Lucretia says. She doesn’t. She’s never wanted to talk about what happened on Cycle 65, instead wanting to forget the whole ordeal ever happened. She tries stuffing the memories back into the lockbox she’s held it in for all these years. “There’s a lot of trauma,” she says when the silence stretches, refusing to look at Sloane. “One doesn’t experience the apocalypse one hundred times and not have any trauma.”

Sloane hums, and out of the corner of her eye, Lucretia sees her nod. Lucretia looks down at her hands, surprised to notice they’re shaking.

“That must have been hard,” Sloane says. “I’m sorry.”

Lucretia huffs. “Thanks. Yeah, it… it sucked major balls.”

Sloane snorts, ten silence falls between them again. Lucretia closes her eyes and focuses on breathing. _In through the nose. Hold for a few seconds. Slowly release through the nose. Belly breathing. Convince my body I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m safe. It’s over. Everything’s fine._

“But you survived it,” Sloane says suddenly. “You all did.”

Lucretia exhales and opens her eyes. “No, we didn’t,” she says, her voice flat. “None of us did. We all died at least once. Hell, Merle died over fifty times. I died- I’ve been stabbed and blown up and- and- and I’ve drowned, and I once starved so badly I _thought_ I was going to die. Though, on that cycle, it probably would have been easier if I had died. We were nearing the end of that cycle anyway.” Lucretia takes a deep breath. “Do you know what it’s like to watch billions and upon billions of people die, knowing if you fail that trillions more are doomed?”

Sloane shifts next to her. “I know what it’s like to die,” she says. “But… no. I don’t quite know exactly what that’s like. I made it through the apocalypse once. I don’t ever want to do it again. I can’t imagine doing it one hundred times.”

Lucretia nods. She becomes aware that she’s gripping her own legs so hard it hurts. She forces her hands to relax. “We can’t even fathom how many a trillion is, but that’s what the Hunger was. Who knows how long it existed for? Who knows how many people got consumed before we came along? And then we came along, and for _one hundred years_ , the only thing between the Hunger and those trillions of other planes was us! And we didn’t know what we were doing!” Lucretia lets out a bark of mirthless laughter. “Just us against an opalescent technicolored doom named John. And just thinking about that for a minute, that all that destruction was caused by one person, is mind blowing! One person can do so much damage, more damage than anyone could ever imagine-”

Lucretia’s hysterical monologue is cut off by Sloane placing a hand on her back. Lucretia jerks, gasping a little, and the tears that had been gathering finally fell. She hunches over, pressing a hand to her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut. very, very close to having another breakdown, this time in the middle of Sloane and Hurley’s apartment.

“Hey,” Sloane says, scooting closer and smoothing her hand up and down Lucretia’s back. “Take a deep breath, okay? Can you do that? Just breathe.”

Lucretia takes a deep, shuddering breath. She really doesn’t want to be crying. She’s really sick of crying, and of guilt. She feels a little too exposed but at the same time, she wants to rip her robe off. _I should have left it in storage,_ she thinks to herself, taking another deep breath. _It was selfish to bring it, selfish of me to put it back on as if I wasn’t one of the people who damaged us._

Her throat feels raw. There’s still sand in her everywhere, and she is almost hyperaware of it. Her mask is sitting on a table, and she smells sweat and some sort of sweet, floral Fantasy Febreze. She goes through the steps to back away from a panic attack, wiping her eyes and taking a few more deep breaths.

“Look,” Sloane says. “I don’t… really know how to help, but… It’s over now, right? The Hunger’s gone. You did it! And I’m not saying that you have to be over it,” she adds hurriedly. “I can’t imagine having to go through that again and again. Hells, I don’t want to imagine it.” She places a hand on Lucretia’s knee. “But I know there are at least six other people in the world who do. And I think maybe you should talk to them.”

Lucretia curls in on herself. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I should have asked before just- before dumping all that on you.”

Sloane shrugs. “I did ask if you wanted to talk about it,” she says. “I’m just saying, they might want to talk about it too. You never know. Anyway.” She gets up and starts walking towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna make tea for us. Any preferences?”

“Black. With lots sugar,” Lucretia mumbles automatically. She sits back against the sofa, staring at her hands. She’s exhausted, and as she glances at the clock, she finds it’s a quarter past one. She still has a train to catch later in the day, but before that, she wants nothing more than to go back to her apartment and relax before heading out again.

Lucretia sighs and gets up, walking over to tell Sloane to forget about the tea and thank her for her hospitality. She stops just before she taps on the doorframe and frowns when she hears Sloane’s voice, quiet.

“… fell off our battlewagon, and had some sort of panic attack,” Sloane murmurs. “She’s currently sitting on my sofa. I think you should come over because she’s maybe not doing so great?”

Lucretia peers into the kitchen to see Sloane’s back to her. She’s holding a stone of farspeech and looking out the window. _She’s calling someone,_ Lucretia thinks. _Is she… Is she calling someone to come get me?_

Merle’s voice, to her surprise, comes through. “Well, that’s pretty damn convenient,” he says, and Lucretia stumbles silently back towards the living room.

 _Didn’t I tell her not to call anyone?_ She thinks to herself. She grabs her mask and staff and makes. She’s exhausted, and the thought of trying to avoid people makes her even more exhausted, especially if those people are her family. _If I’m not here when they get here, Sloane might just tell them where my apartment is,_ she thinks, and dread fills her stomach. _Forget the shower, I need to get to the train station as fast as possible_.

She gently taps her staff on the ground, and casts Teleport instead, aiming for her apartment. The spell successfully takes, and she appears in her kitchen. All she wants to do is take a nap, but that’s unfortunately not an option, especially if her family is going to appear on her doorstep. She casts Prestidigitation to get rid of the sand still lurking in her clothes. It offers her some relief. She shucks her IPRE robe and grabs a different coat, then takes her belongings and heads out.

Soon, she will get on the train, find a nice quiet car, and sleep until she reaches Neverwinter.

She cannot wait for her day to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am halfway through my semester, and I was really excited to post this chapter! Thank you for your continued to support. I really appreciate every comment and kudos I get! Seeing you guys speculate is really fun. I love you!


	13. Chapter 13

“We are gathered here today,” Magnus says solemnly to the room at large, “To find Lucretia.”

Gathered before him are Barry, Merle, Angus, and the twins. Davenport was in the middle of the ocean and couldn’t come at that very moment, but they promised to update him with the “Finding Lucretia” mission after the meeting.

“Genius,” Taako says, laying on the sofa. His feet are up and over the arm rest, and he’s leaning against Lup. “What do we know?”

“Today, she is scheduled to get on a train at 2:45pm to Neverwinter. The time is now a quarter to one,” Angus says, flipping through his little detective notebook and readjusting his nerd glasses. “She was adamant against telling you all her address, but I’ve already told Mr. Taako that she lives in Goldcliff. Carey and Killian have visited her, and so it’s likely they know what her address is. She screens her calls, and isn’t taking any from you all, but would probably take calls from either me or other people from the Bureau. She also told me her schedule for when she gets to Neverwinter, but as she didn’t want you to know her address, I would feel bad getting in the middle of everything.” He closes his notebook. “I’m really sorry. I want to help, but I think it’s best if I sit this one out.”

“Well great, there goes our best resource,” Taako says.

“… _But_ ,” Angus adds, “I do know that Lucas Miller is the one who sent her to Neverwinter in the first place. If nothing else, you might be able to get details from him.”

“Even with that information, if Lucretia doesn’t want to be found, we’re going to have a very hard time finding her,” Barry says, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. “Trust me. I don’t know when she learned how to hide so well, but it took me literal years to track her down.”

“Yeah, but it took Angus like a month and a half to get up onto the moonbase after he met us,” Magnus points out. “No offence Barry. The kid’s a literal detective.”

“None taken.”

Angus clears his throat and the room turns its attention to him. “Technically,” he says, “I wasn’t trying to fine the Director. I was trying to find the Bureau, and that worked.” He shifts in his chair. “Like I said though, Carey and Killian likely know where she lives, and Lucas Miller knows where she’s going.”

Magnus opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by his stone of farspeech lighting up. Everyone turns to him and he picks up. “Hello?”

“Hey, Magnus, it’s Sloane,” says Sloane, her voice low. “Uh, I need you and maybe some more of your friends to come over.”

Magnus raises his eyebrows at the room. “Well, we’re pretty much all here. What happened?”

“Did you happen to watch the race today?” Sloane asks.

“No, why? And why are you talking so quietly?”

Sloane makes an uncomfortable noise. “Hurley took Lucretia out on the track with her, uh, she’s fine! Okay, she’s not _hurt_ , but she fell off our battlewagon, and had some sort of panic attack. She’s currently sitting on my sofa, and I’m making tea for us. I think you should come over because she’s maybe not doing so great?”

There’s silence for a moment before Merle says, “Well that’s pretty damn convenient.”

“We’ll be there,” Magnus says.

“Maybe not all of you,” Sloane says quickly. “I don’t want her to get too overwhelmed. She’s already having a pretty bad day, but I don’t think she should be alone, especially since she’s going to be travelling later today. I just- I don’t know her that well, you know? And you know her a lot.”

“I understand,” Magnus says. “We’ll be over in a few. What’s your address?”

“I mean,” Barry says, summoning his scythe. “I could just… portal us over?”

“Great,” Sloane sounded relieved. “Thanks. Just, uh, please don’t portal into the middle of my living room? I didn’t exactly tell her I was calling- Oh. _Shit_.”

There’s silence for a few seconds.

“Everything… good?” Magnus asks.

“Dammit, she’s gone!” Sloane says. “I have no idea how she- Alright. Alright! Well, I don’t know where she is now. Call her stone of farspeech, I’ll see if I can catch up to her.”

“Will do,” Magnus says. He hangs up. “Hey Barry, portaling us to Goldcliff is probably a really good idea right about now.” He points at Taako. “You’re coming with me and Barry.” He points at Lup and Merle. “You two are going to go to Lucas Miller’s lab and figure out where he’s sending Luce. Okay?”

“Alright.” Lup summons her scythe and cuts a portal. “Come on, Merle!”

“Uh, I can’t,” Merle says. “I gotta get back home. I left Mavis and Mookie by themselves and promised I wouldn’t be gone for long. Would you mind dropping me back…?”

Lup rolls her eyes and cuts open another portal. “Go on. See you later.”

“Good luck!” Merle calls as he goes through, tripping over the rim of the portal as he goes.

“Where do you want me to open up to?” Barry asks.

“Goldcliff Station,” Angus says. “Her train leaves at a quarter to three, so we’ve got some time before she gets there. I’ll go with Ms. Lup.”

“Rad!” Lup calls, and leaps through her own portal. Angus goes in after her, shooting Magnus a thumbs up.

Barry opens a portal to the train station, and Taako groans before going through. Magnus frowns at him, just a little, before rushing in after him, and Barry comes through last. The station is busy, and they still have over an hour before Lucretia is bound to show up.

“Alright,” Magnus says. “Spread out and keep your stone of farspeech on. She could be anywhere.”

“I’m gonna go to where her train is supposed to pull in,” Taako says, and flashes a peace sign before wandering off.

“Uh, I guess I’ll stick around the entrance here and see if I notice her coming in?” Barry says.

Magnus nods. “Alright, then I’ll patrol and just… keep my eyes peeled.” With that, he turns on his heel and starts looking around. He thinks it’ll probably be easy to notice her; she has bright white hair and a white driftwood staff.

He wanders around the station, occasionally checking in with Taako or Barry. Taako’s sitting on a bench in front of Lucretia’s train, staring at the ceiling when Magnus comes over.

“Any sign?” Taako asks when Magnus obstructs his view of the ceiling.

“Nope.”

“Cool. Hey, did you notice the ceilings in here are actually nice? What’s the point of making the ceilings nice? I know this is Goldcliff, so duh, of course the ceilings are nice, but like, who’s staring at the ceiling?”

Magnus looks up. Sure enough, the ceiling is painted very nicely. He has no idea what time period the images are from—they’re mostly of scantily-dressed people, and it looks old—but he can’t help but think Taako’s right, except… “I mean, you are, right now, staring at the ceiling.”

Taako snorts and looks around. “It’s half an hour until Lucretia’s train leaves. What if she just… doesn’t show up?”

Magnus shrugs. “Then I guess we go to Lucas’s lab and intimidate him until he rats out Lucretia?”

“That’ll be plan B. I’m gonna check in with Lup and see how she and the brat are hanging.”

Magnus leaves him to it and continues wandering around the station. Eventually, he starts talking to people waiting for their train, asking if they’ve seen Lucretia. At one point he sees a woman with greying hair and a blue coat come in, looking very tired. She has sunglasses on and looks ancient, but she’s carrying a travel easel and a bag over her shoulder, as well as a brown staff.

She looks like she needs some help, and so of course, Magnus rushes over to her.

“Excuse me,” he says. She startles and looks up at him with wide eyes, but he continues, “You look like you could use some help, ma’am,” he says. “Can I take your easel?”

The woman blinks at him, adjusting the glasses perched on the end of her nose. “What?”

“Your easel,” he says. “It looks heavy. Would you care for some assistance?”

She considers him for a moment before shaking her head slowly. “No, thank you,” she says. “But… I appreciate the offer.”

“Of course! Oh, and have you seen a woman who looks about fifty, about this tall, with white hair and a white staff?”

“Nope,” the old woman says, shaking her head. She pushes her sunglasses up her nose.

“Dang. Thanks anyway, have a good trip, wherever you’re going,” he says. The woman makes some sort of noncommittal noise and hurries away. He goes to the entrance to where Barry’s stationed and sighs. “So, it’s about fifteen minutes until her train leaves, and I haven’t seen her anywhere.”

“Me neither,” Barry says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Should we go and search the train?”

Magnus shakes his head. “I don’t know if they’d let us on. Come on, let’s head over to Taako. He hasn’t seen her either, but maybe she’s running late.”

“Or maybe she just decided to reschedule,” Barry adds. “If she had a panic attack this morning, she might have just gone back to her apartment and passed out. ‘S what I would do.”

“Oh! Yeah!” Magnus pulls out his stone of farspeech. “Hey Taako, me and Barry are heading over to you. I’m gonna call Carey and see if we can get Lucy’s address from her.” Magnus doesn’t wait for an answer before hanging up on the group call and calling Carey. It rings a few times before she answers.

“Hey, Mags, what’s up?”

“Hi, Carey,” he says, grinning. “A little bird told me that you know where Lucretia lives. Mind helping me out? What’s her address?”

“Uhh…” Carey considers for a few minutes. There are more people in the station now, people hurrying to catch their trains, and Barry keeps a lookout for Lucretia as they make their way over to Taako. “I don’t remember the exact address, but it’s the big apartment complex on Market Street. She’s high up, too, like the nineteenth floor or something. Gimme a sec, I’ll see if Killian Remembers.”

“Thanks.” He waits and they find Taako, now standing on the bench and looking over the sea of people. “Have you seen her yet?”

“Nope,” Taako says. “You?”

“Nope,” Barry echoes. “He’s calling Carey to see about the address. I think she might have cancelled the trip last minute.”

Taako sits back down. “Cool, let’s get the fuck out. Her train’s gonna leave in like two minutes.”

“We can wait two minutes,” Magnus argues. He can see the old woman from before getting on the train now, looking harried. She makes eye contact with him and he grins, waving a bit. He can’t help but feel there’s something familiar about her.

“Alright!” Carey says from his stone, drawing his attention away from the old woman. “She’s on the twenty-fifth floor, in room twenty-five-nineteen. Like I said, it’s the apartments on the corner of Market Street, more towards the center of town.”

“Thanks Carey, you’re a lifesaver.” Lucretia’s train gets the last call before slowly moving out of the station.

Carey laughs. “No problem. Isn’t she supposed to be on a train though? We told Lucas to send her on a nice trip to Neverwinter and gave her a cute journal to document it with.”

“Yeah, we’re, uh, trying to find her now? Her train just left. She was kind of in a bad way earlier, so we think she might try to reschedule.”

Carry hums. “That’s weird. Everything alright?”

“I think?” Magnus looks at Taako and Barry and motions towards the exit with his head. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

“Sounds good. Remember, twenty-five-nineteen!”

“Twenty-five-nineteen, at Market Street. Got it.” Magnus hangs up and puts his stone back in his pocket. “Alright boys let’s roll out!” he says and starts sprinting out of the station.

“I can portal us!” Barry calls from behind him. “It’s really no trouble!”

Magnus stops at the entrance of the station, waiting for Barry and Taako to catch up before Barry portals them to Market Street. Nearby is, as Carey said, an apartment complex, and they see Sloane standing at the door, punching in a code.

“Hey! Hey, Sloane!”

She whips around, looking relieved when she sees them. “Oh, hey. No luck in finding her yet?”

“Nope. You know where she lives?”

“Yeah, I hoped her move her fish earlier today. I know exactly where her apartment is, come on.” She opens the door for them, and they go up the elevator. As they go up, the introduce her to Barry. When they reach her apartment, Magnus knocks on the door.

“Lucretia?” he calls, knocking again. “Lucretia, are you asleep? It’s me, Magnus!” He gets a weird sense of déjà vu as he does this. The last time he tried to do something like this, she was feeding their memories to Fisher. He shakes his head. “Lucretia,” he says in a singsong voice. He then turns to Barry and Taako. “I don’t think she’s here. Cover me, I’m gonna pick the lock.” He pulls out his lockpicking kit and kneels down, trying to figure out the lock. It doesn’t go.

“Here, lemme try,” Sloane says. She takes a lockpick out of her pocket and in five seconds flat, the door to Lucretia’s apartment swings open.

The apartment dimly lit inside, with the curtains half drawn back. It is, however, a shitshow of color. There are rugs all over the place that look soft, but they are bright and gaudy. Taako takes one look at it and bursts out laughing. “Oh my _god_ , it looks like the god of color and tacky decorating fucking threw up in here.”

They go in, turning on the light as they go. There’s a horrible lime green and hot pink sofa pressed against the wall, an array of unorganized art supplies, and many, many journals. Magnus looks at the bookshelf and gasps. “Oh _no_.”

“What?” Barry says quickly, summoning his scythe and looking around. Magnus ignores him, already walking over.

“She got _Fantasy off-brand Ikea_ bookshelves,” he says. “This is horrible, they’re going to break out from under everything! Look at this, they’re already bending. How is she living like this? Who let her live like this?!”

Taako snorts. “More important issues, though, she’s _not here_.”

They fall silent for a moment.

“Well. Fuck,” Barry says eloquently. “She probably slipped past us. Dammit, I knew I should have used True Sight.”

Magnus opens his mouth to reply when there’s a tap on the doorframe. They all turn and spot two old women standing in the doorway to Lucretia’s apartment.

“Hello, you three,” one of them says, hands on her hips. “Any reason why you’ve broken into our neighbor’s apartment?”

“Three?” Barry echoes, puzzled. “Where did Sloane go?”

The window to Lucretia’s apartment is open, and as Magnus looks around, he notices Sloane is gone. He remembers suddenly that the Raven was a notorious thief, and likely left as soon as she heard someone coming down the hall.

“Yeah, here’s the deal,” Taako says, giving the women his best showbiz smile. “This is Lucretia’s apartment, yeah? We’re friends of hers, and just wanted to drop by to see if she was okay. She hasn’t been replying to any of our messages or calls, so we just wanted to see what was up.”

The women raise their eyebrows and look at one another. The other old woman rolls her eyes, then pushes up her sleeves and comes into the apartment, grabbing Taako by his arm, then Barry, dragging them towards the door as Taako makes an indignant noise. “Alright kids, you’ve had your fun,” she says. “She’s not here, so leave her stuff alone and come back another day.”

“Mazna,” the first old woman says, looking exasperated. “Mazna, please.”

Magnus follows after his friends, closing Lucretia’s door behind him. “Sorry,” he says, picking the lock to close it again. “We’re just really worried about her.”

“I understand,” says not-Mazna. “I’m Nura, this is my wife Mazna. We live just next door, and we check in on her every so often. She seems to be doing okay. Even asked us to watch her fish for her while she was gone, but unfortunately, we were in no condition to do so.”

“Fish?” Barry, Taako, and Magnus all echo, mystified.

“Yeah, she’s got about five of them,” Mazna says, crossing her arms. “And apparently she found someone to take them, ‘cause they’re not there anymore. Now, you boys best be on your way.”

Mazna turns and heads back towards her apartment, and Magnus waves. “Thanks, sorry for disturbing you,” he calls. Nura flashes him a smile, and then the two disappear into their own apartment.

“Well that was a waste of time,” Barry says after a moment.

“ _Ugh_ ,” Taako says, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, so she isn’t here. Lup and Angus have her schedule. Let’s get going.”

Barry nods and opens a portal, and the three of them vanish from the hallway.

* * *

Lucretia removes her Disguise Self spell and sunglasses shortly after the Neverwinter Express pulls out of the station. She breaths a small sigh of relief, slumping back into her seat. No one recognized her. Not Barry at the entrance, not Magnus even when he spoke to her face to face, and not Taako as she walked right past him. He was on the stone when she passed, and the little crease between his eyebrows was the only indication that he seemed worried.

She tries not to think about it.

 _I can’t believe I pulled that off_ , she thinks. She’s sitting in the quiet car and feels absolutely exhausted. The seats are comfortable, and she rests her head against the window. She hopes her family isn’t too upset with her for leaving under their noses. She understands Sloane was just trying to help, but she wishes that she hadn’t needed to avoid Magnus. Knowing her family, they’ll likely find out where she’s headed. She considers her options.

 _I could always go to Neverwinter and just not go to the event,_ she thinks. _But I was getting excited to go. I may as well attend and just keep constant vigilance. But they might also be waiting for me at the station. I might have to disguise myself again in order to get off_.

The clearing of a throat draws her from her thoughts, and she looks up at an official-looking man holding out a hand. “Your ticket, Madam,” he says.

“Oh, of course.” Lucretia pats her pockets before checking her bag, pulling out her ticket from the itinerary folder. “Here you are.”

He looks over it and starts, glancing at her in surprises before looking back at the ticket. He clears his throat and passes it back to her. “A pleasure to have you with us, Madam Director,” he says. “Are you aware there is a first-class car set up for you?”

She wasn’t. _Is that what first class means?_ She thinks. She pulls on a professional face. “I wasn’t,” she said. “Thank you, where is it?”

“The conductor ought to have sent you straight back.” He shakes his head. “Ever mind that, right this way, Madam. Would you like help with your bags?” he asks. She allows him to take her easel only, keeping her staff and bag of holding with her as she follows him. Sure enough, there is a private car set up for her. It’s quiet and nice. She reaches into her bag and takes out a few gold coins, tipping the man.

“Oh, thank you, madam,” he says with a warm smile. “We will be arriving at the station at six this evening. Please enjoy your trip on the Neverwinter Express.”

“Thank you,” Lucretia says. He leaves, and she sits down on the personal bed. It’s very soft, and a part of her wants to nap until dinner arrives. She flops sideways so her head hits the pillow and sighs, closing her eyes. The train rumbles, not unlike the Starblaster, and she finds herself relaxing a little.

She wakes up to a knocking, and sits up blearily calling, “Come in?”

The door opens, and a human woman wheels in a cart with food on it. “Good evening, Madam Director,” she says with a smile. “Would you care for anything from the drinks cart?”

Lucretia sits up, folding her hands onto her lap. “Ah— Wine, please,” she says. “Thank you.”

The woman takes a glass out from the second level to the cart as well as a bottle of red wine. She places down a glass of wine, then leaves the bottle for Lucretia. “Enjoy!” she says and vanishes into the next car with her cart.

Lucretia picks up the glass, sniffing the wine and sipping at it. It’s nice; a little too dry for her, but she sips at it, leaning back to look out the window as she drinks. The sun hasn’t started setting quite yet, but she’s still tired. The wine relaxes her a bit, and she sort of wants to go back to sleep. It’s another two and a half hours to Neverwinter.

Instead, she gets up and checks out the room a little more. There’s a closet-like bathroom with a tiny shower, and Lucretia is suddenly aware of the remaining layer of grime from her race. She finishes the rest of her wine and puts the glass down, then goes to where she put down her bag of holding, pulls out some clean clothes, and goes into the little bathroom. The shower is quick, and the shower is a little too small to be considered comfortable, but she feels much better when she gets out, dries herself off, and put the clean clothes on. By then, it’s another two hours.

She sits back down next to the window and pours herself another glass of wine, trying to enjoy herself despite the anxiety that her family is waiting for her at the station. At some point, she dozes off again, and wakes up as the train lurches to a stop. Glancing out the window, she sees that the sun has fully set by now. With a sigh, she pulls her disguise back on, collects her belongings, and exits the train. Once she’s on the platform, she pulls out her itinerary, glancing around every so often before nervously looking over her shoulder and around the platform. She doesn’t see her family anywhere.

With a sigh of relief, Lucretia makes her way out of the station and hails down a cab-wagon. She climbs in, gives the address for the hotel Lucas reserved for her, and then remains quiet as the cab lurches forward. She dozes off for only a moment, waking up abruptly when the cab stops. She pays for her fare, thanks the driver, and goes to the front desk.

“Excuse me,” Lucretia says to the receptionist. “I have a reservation under Lucas Miller.”

The receptionist, a light-haired halfling who looks like she’s been doing this job forever, quickly finds the reservation and pulls out a key. “Room thirteen-ten. Anything else I can do for you?”

“Yes, actually,” Lucretia says. “If anyone comes looking for me, is it possible for my room number to be kept private?”

The receptionist—her name tag says Marta—smiles. “Of course. We never give out the name or room numbers of our guests unless we have express permission. Is that all?”

Lucretia thanks her and makes her way up to her room. It isn’t long before she’s collapsing onto the bed, dropping her stuff at the door as she goes in. She knows from looking at her itinerary over and over that she has a reservation at a nice restaurant, but a part of her wants to blow it off. She’s had a remarkably exhausting day, and all she wants to do is order room service and sleep.

 _Well,_ she thinks with her face buried in pillows. _Why don’t I?_

She feels a little thrill at the thought of going off schedule. Her heart leaps and thumps in her hears. _You know what? I’m not going to even call to cancel. I’m just going to lie here, take a nap, then get room service._ She pauses and rolls over to look at the bedside table, picking up the menu and room service details off of it. _Room service ends at one am,_ she thinks. _I can wake up before then, right? Right_. She tosses the room service menu onto the bed next to her, kicks off her shoes, and hugs a pillow as she curls up. The bed is so soft, and she’s so fucking comfortable.

 _Oh yeah,_ she thinks, eyes closed. _I deserve this_.

A moment later, she opens her eyes and realizes she wasn’t where she was. In fact, she’s on the sofa in the Starblaster common room, and she sits up with a yelp, promptly rolling off the sofa into a heap on the floor.

“Yikes, sorry about that,” a familiar voice says. “Huh. This is new, usually it’s a conference room or something.”

“ _Merle?_ ” Lucretia sits up and sees Merle sitting at the kitchen table. He has no shirt on, and has his hands folded in his lap.

He gives her a wide, toothy grin and chuckles. “Hey Lucretia,” he says pleasantly. “Welcome to Parlay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I wanted to have this chapter up sooner, but Life has gotten in the way! What a weird second half of my semester this is turning out to be, huh? Thank you for sticking along with this! I see your kudos and comments, and I love each and every one of you! Stay safe wherever you are, however you can. Happy Passover and Happy Easter!


	14. Chapter 14

Lucas Miller isn’t expecting his introduction to Lup to be when she portals directly into his lab. She is, for lack of a better word, _fucking terrifying_ from a necromancer’s point of view. But fortunately, Lucas is an engineer and a scientist, and he’s given up necromancy for good.

He knows Lup is a Reaper. Or, he suspects it when she stands in front of him with a scythe in her hand. She looks down at him with a look of utmost seriousness, and he groans.

“What?” he complains. “I’m not doing anything necromantic! I know they’re keeping an eye on me but jeez! Can’t a guy do _anything_?”

Lup looks confused before looking at the scythe in her hand. “Oh!” she says. “No, no, this isn’t, I’m not here to reap you.” She banishes her scythe, and a moment later Angus McDonald comes through the portal after her.

“Hello, Dr. Miller!” he says, smiling brightly. “Do you know where Director Lucretia is?”

Lucas relaxes a little at that, but still keeps his guard up. “Why?” he asks, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“Is that not self-explanatory?” Lup says. “We wanna know where she is, and a little bird told us _you_ knew where she was going to be today.”

Lucas stares at her and then turns to Angus. He blinks and frowns. “I do?” In truth, he has no idea what day it is today. He’s been working on a new project while also trying to get his school up and running, and he really, _really_ doesn’t need this.

“Yes, sir.” Angus approaches him. “The Director said you sent her to Neverwinter for an art museum event, but we don’t know what museum, or when the event is.”

Lucas squints at Angus, then into the middle-distance, trying to remember. Something clicks. “Oh! The trip that- Yeah, yeah.” He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know. Carey and Killian organized it. They sent everything to me and I approved it, made copies, and then sent the originals to Lucretia.”

“You mean you have no idea where she is?” Lup raises her eyebrows.

Lucas glares at her. “I don’t remember what the event or the museum was called. I’ve had quite a bit on my plate lately, and I can’t keep track of everything! Also, do I look like a man who knows what art museums do?”

Lup makes an “Ehhh,” noise and lifts her hand, tilting it in a so-so movement.

“Exactly,” Lucas says. “So, if you’ll excuse me-”

“Do you still have the copies?” Angus interrupts. “Of everything Carey and Killian sent you?”

Lucas groans and puts his face in his hands. “Probably, somewhere! It’s not like I throw anything away,” he mutters at the end and gets up with another groan. His laboratory is a mess, with stacks of papers. “It’s probably… not in here.” He pauses there and squints at Lup. “And… _why_ exactly are you asking me this? Can’t you just call and ask her yourself?”

“Well, I would if she’d pick up her damn stone,” Lup replies.

Lucas pauses, uncertain. He’s known Lucretia for a long time. A _very_ long time. He likes Lucretia, admires her in more way than one. He respects her too, and that includes her privacy. “Then tell me why I ought to tell you where she is? If she doesn’t want you to know, then she likely has a good reason.”

“Please, Dr. Miller,” Angus says before Lup can bristle. “We’re very worried about her. We received a call this morning that she needed help, but she ran away, and we don’t know where she is. Is there anything you can do to help? We don’t want her to get hurt.”

Lucas turns his attention to Angus. He likes Angus McDonald. He’s a cute kid. A nerd, like himself, and exceedingly likable and smart. Lucas absolutely knows this kid is turning on the charm, his eyes wide behind his glasses and sticking his lower lip out, just a little.

It is, in fact, very, very cute.

Lucas groans and pushes back from his desk. “Alright, alright. Come this way.” He heads the way out of the lab.

“Thank you, sir!” Angus says, and he and Lup follow him out.

“I’m not doing this for you,” he replies. “I normally wouldn’t tell you anything, as I respect her both as a mentor and my… boss? Associate?” _My mom’s maybe-almost-girlfriend?_ he thinks to himself. He sighs and shakes his head. “She was closer to my mom than me, but she’s still important to me. I… want to make sure she’s safe.”

Angus smiles, looking a little more relaxed. “Still, I really appreciate it, sir. The Director is important to me, too.”

“Yeah, I know.” Lucas ruffles the kid’s hair. “You’re important to her, too.” Lucas leads them to his office, where more paperwork is done. As unorganized as he is, he doesn’t like keeping paperwork in his lab. The office isn’t much cleaner, and Lup whistles when they walk in.

“Jeez, Miller, ever heard of cleaning up a little?” she says, crossing her arms and shifting her hips, the perfect image of judgement.

Lucas gives her a scathing look. “I hear the Story like everyone else,” he says. “Your organizational skills were atrocious.”

“Yeah, but not my workspaces,” she argues with the same shit-eating grin that Taako often wears.

Lucas grumbles and goes about searching for the documents. He knows they’re around here somewhere, and after asking permission, Angus starts to help. At some point, Lup gets a call and steps out to take it. When she comes back, she looks worried.

Lucas doesn’t ask. He keeps looking until he finds the itinerary. “Aha! Here it is,” he says and turns.

Angus’s head pops up from where he’s sitting with a pile of papers, and her gets up. “You found it?”

“Mm-hm.” Lucas flips through the folder, then hands it to Angus. “This should be everything.”

“Thank you!” Angus says and flings himself at Lucas, wrapping himself around Lucas’s middle.

“Right,” Lucas says, awkwardly patting his back. “Well, pleasure seeing you two, now can you _please_ leave so I can get back to work?”

Lup makes a portal and salutes him lazily before jumping through. “See ya, nerdlord.”

“Goodbye, sir!” Angus calls, and waves as he goes through, giving him an almost apologetic smile before the portal closes behind him.

Lucas sits down and leans back in his rolling chair, staring at the ceiling. A part of him feels like he ought to call Lucretia and see how she’s doing, or at least warn her that her family is looking for her.

He eventually decides against it and goes back to work. _I’m sure she already knows,_ he thinks, remembering Taako, Magnus, and Merle. _After all, they’re some of the loudest, most indiscreet people I’ve ever met in my life_. _At least they didn’t send Kravitz_. Lucas swallows and shakes his head, silently wishing Lucretia his best.

He hopes she’s okay.

* * *

Lucretia slowly moves back onto the sofa, eyeing Merle suspiciously before glancing around the… Starblaster. It looks just like it did the last time they were all together, with throw pillows and blankets on the sofa and various books stacks around. There’s a robe tossed carelessly over one of the mis-matched armchairs, and she half expects Barry to walk in, or Magnus to leap out from behind the sofa to try and scare her.

But everything is silent save for the hum of the bond engine, and the only person around is Merle. He sits facing her, a pleasantly cheerful look on his face, hands clasped, with no shirt on. _The staple of Parlay,_ her mind provides. There is no one except for the two of them.

“Hello Merle,” she says cautiously once she’s settled back down. “Can I… help you? Is there something you need?”

“What, I can’t just talk to a friend?” he says, peering at her over the top of his glasses. “I gotta have a _reason_ , now?” He shakes his head. “I was going to ask you the same thing though. I mean, what the hell? You don’t call, you don’t write, and you didn’t even come for Candlenights!” He holds up a finger, silencing her before she can even start. “Now I know, I know. You’re an adult who can make her own decisions, and I’m not tryin’ to stick myself in the middle of your business. You’re a busy woman! But the occasional visit wouldn’t hurt, would it? I mean, you’re on vacation for crying out loud! Shouldn’t you be at the beach or something?”

Lucretia has had a long day. A very, very long day, and she blames that for almost bursting into tears in the middle of Merle’s speech. She looks down at her hands to avoid meeting his eyes, trying to swallow the lump in her throat as she presses her trembling lips together. She wishes for a cup of tea, and then a moment later, there’s a teapot and some cups on the coffeetable in front of her. It surprises her.

Merle, on the other hand, just gets up and walks over, pouring her a cup of tea and handing her a cup. “Here,” he says. “I heard you’ve been having kind of a rough day, kiddo.”

Lucretia nods and takes a sip of tea. It’s a green tea with a hint of coconut, and almost enough sugar.

Merle sits up on the sofa next to her, reaching out and placing one of his hands—the flesh one—on hers. “You wanna talk about it?”

That’s the thing with Merle, Lucretia knows. He won’t push her to talk, but he’ll let the silence stretch as long as it needs to. He knows her, and he knows that when she wants to talk, she’ll talk. It scares her a little, knowing there’s someone who knows her as well Merle does. She sips at her tea, and the silence feels thick between them. She is not going to cry, she’s already decided, but it takes a few deep breaths and another cup of tea before she feels like she can speak.

“To my credit,” she says, her voice quiet, “it was the middle of winter. Can’t exactly go to the beach when it’s winter.”

“Sure you can,” Merle says, perfectly indignant and definitely fucking with her. “Besides, it’s not winter _now_.”

Lucretia cracks a smile. “It’s still cold, Merle.”

“So? You don’t have to go in the water!”

“Then what’s the point of going to the beach?”

Merle pauses. “Arts and crafts?”

Lucretia gives a soft chuckle at that. “Is that a question or an answer?”

Merle huffs. “It’s a valid suggestion! Either way, if you felt like you needed an invitation then sure, this is your invitation. I’m inviting you to come stay with me at Bottlenose Cove.”

Lucretia feels anxiety creeping into her stomach. “When?”

Merle shrugs a shoulder. “Ehh, whenever you get around to it. There’s a key under the doormat, so if by chance you come, and I’m off with the kids, you’re not stranded outside.” He relaxes into the sofa.

Her anxiety persists. Lucretia drinks more tea to stop herself from chewing on her lip. “Hey, is this caffeine going to keep me awake?” she asks as she pours herself another cup. “Is this real? Is any of this real? I thought the Starblaster was Nowhere now.”

Merle laughs. “Oh, I have _no_ idea. Maybe this is Nowhere? I dunno…” He gets up and goes to the window peeking out. “Well, what do you know? A violet sky! I guess this is home, huh.”

Lucretia pauses for a moment. _A violet sky?_ She quickly runs through her memory trying to remember which cycle had a violet sky. Before she can ask, Merle returns to the sofa.

“So Sloane says you fell off a battlewagon? You alright?”

Lucretia clenches her cup. “I’m fine,” she says. “I’m sorry for making you worry,” she says. “But really, I’m _fine_ —”

“Hey,” Merle says, and she looks up at him. “If you don’t want to talk about it, you can say so. But let’s keep this truthful, alright? We all know that ‘fine’ stands for—”

“Fucked Up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional. I know, _thank you_ , Merle.” Lucretia sighs and shakes her head. “Alright, then. I’m… I’m doing better than I was this morning. I’m just tired.” She bites at her lip. “I don’t really know what to say most of the time, so I don’t call. I’m not exactly the most interesting person—”

“Aw, that’s not true!” Merle says, waving his wooden hand. “You’re plenty interesting! And even if you don’t have a lot to say, we always find something to chat about, don’t we?” He catches her eye and becomes serious for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell us you were going on vacation?”

Lucretia squirms. Merle has the uncanny ability to get to the root of a problem and figure out exactly what she doesn’t want to talk about. “I… I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

Merle made a noise of disbelief. “I could excuse that for a week maybe, but it’s been a few months now. What’s stopping you, ‘ey? This isn’t the Lucretia I know.”

“Maybe I’m not the Lucretia you know anymore,” Lucretia snaps in reply. She immediately regrets it, for only silence follows. She wants to apologize. She’s done a lot of apologizing.

Merle puts his cup down. “Maybe you’re not,” he says. “But that doesn’t have to be a bad thing, does it? I mean, we’ve all changed, haven’t we? Look, I’ve only got one eye!” He shakes his head again. “I won’t speak for the others, but it seems to me you’re afraid of letting us get to know the new you.”

Lucretia deflates. She finishes her tea, avoiding his gaze, and looks down at her empty cup. “It can be hard to let people ‘get to know you when you don’t even know who you are,” she mumbles. “I’m just… figuring things out, I guess. I thought some time alone could help.”

“Mm.” Merle nods sagely. “Yeah, that’s what Cap’nport did when he went out to sea for a while. I get it!” He pauses. “Do you want some advice?”

Lucretia shrugs a shoulder.

Merle pats her arm. “I know it can be hard to stop running. Hell, we’ve been running for so long, we’re all still figuring out how to stop! And who knows if we’ll ever really stop running. But it sounds to me like you need to figure out what exactly you’re running from now, and… maybe try to figure out something to run _toward_ instead. Or else turn around and face whatever’s chasing you head on.”

Lucretia sighs. “When did you get so wise?”

“Me? I’ve always been wise!” Merle says, sounding offended. “Look, there’s an owl on my eyepatch and everything! That’s gotta count for something.”

Lucretia smiles. “Alright, Merle, I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“Damn right,” he mutters, crossing his arms. His grumpy façade fades a moment later when he looks back up at her. “Whatever you’re going through, you know you don’t have to face it alone, right? We’re here if you need help.”

Lucretia’s smile fades, but she looks at Merle with what she hopes isn’t a too-sad expression. “I’ll… keep it in mind,” she says, with no intention to take him up on his offer. Her heart aches when Merle smiles at her with all the warmth of the sun.

“Good,” he says, looking relieved. “You’d better.”

They sit for a while in silence, drinking tea from a never-empty pot.

“Merle,” she says at last, her voice soft. “Are… Were you going to tell anyone you saw me?”

“I was gonna, yeah,” he replies. “They’re all worried about you, especially after the call we got today about you. Nothing much, just that I saw you and you looked-” He pauses there and looks up at her. “To be honest, you kinda look like shit.”

“Thank you, Merle,” she says sarcastically. “Your honesty is a gift. Yes, I suppose you could say I kind of feel like shit too.” She pauses and adds, “I could… use some sleep.”

Merle nods. “Alright then, I won’t keep you. Just remember, we’re not going anywhere.” He gives her a toothy smile. “That’s the thing about family, Luce. You ain’t getting rid of us that easy.”

Lucretia shrinks down on herself. “I’m not… I’m not trying to get rid of you.”

Merle’s face softens, and he gets up to take her hands, patting them. “Call every once in a while, will ya?”

Lucretia sighs, looking at their hands. “Okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

He holds out his pinky. “Pinky promise?”

Lucretia smiles a little. “Pinky promise, yeah, sure.” She hooks her pinky around his, and they shake once.

Merle laughs. “Alright, alright. G’night, Luce. And hey.” He gives her a stern look. “Take _care_ of yourself.”

“Are you threatening me?” Lucretia asks, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh yeah, absolutely.”

“Thought so. You too, Merle. Goodnight.” Lucretia takes a deep breath, and the room turns to smoke around her. When it clears, she’s back in her hotel room in Neverwinter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOOO BOY. Didn't expect this to take so long, sorry about that. No one warned me how bad the burnout after writing my thesis would be, lol. But! Both of my theses have been turned in, and I've officially graduated!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed today's chapter! Stay safe and try to stay healthy out there, everyone. You have my love and best wishes. Thank you to everyone who has commented and kudosed and bookmarked! You are all appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> So! This is going to be the first longfic I've posted in quite some time. I'm super excited! Updates will be irregular as I navigate my upcoming last year at college. Comments are always appreciated and I'm usually fairly responsive to them. Thank you and enjoy!


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